Wait For It
by Mayonaka no Ame
Summary: It wasn't exactly a scene from a fairy tale. It wasn't original or clever or even remotely romantic. But as Cloud dropped the ring into her hand, his eyes asking the question she had always dreamed of, Tifa knew there was only one possible answer… "No."
1. What to Expect

Disclaimer: All characters and titles belong to Square Enix's "Final Fantasy VII". I own nothing.

Setting: Post ACC, Pre-DOC. CloTi.

"_Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed"_

­-- Alexander Pope

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter I:_ What to Expect_

It wasn't exactly a scene from a fairy tale.

It wasn't original or clever or even remotely romantic.

But, honestly, despite the embarrassingly many times she had fantasized about this moment, she hadn't anticipated anything more. Not really.

For he was a man of simple, quiet tastes. Well, simple non-mechanized tastes at least. So the method he chose, the lack of words, the determined stance, was in no way surprising. Disappointment with his approach wasn't an issue.

It was exactly as she had always envisioned, always hopefully expected.

The hand that held her wrist was uncharacteristically quivering as the other spread out her fingers and deposited the object, the _symbol_, into her waiting palm.

Direct. Sweetly nervous. Heart-breakingly sincere.

_Cloud…_

Upon further inspection, she noted that the ring as well had been taken directly from her childhood fantasy of this moment. A fragile gold band with an impractically large, heart-shaped diamond. Deliciously sparkly.

A little girl's dream.

A fantasy made real.

"Cloud…?"

From behind thick lashes, her dark eyes rose to meet his. Her expression…a mixture of confused and awe-struck.

He almost sighed at the reaction. Almost.

Isn't it obvious, Tifa?

_Don't make me say it…_

…

The silent question lingered in the air for tense seconds, until her stabbing stare, gradually narrowing, forced him to at the very least nod. As extra confirmation, he delicately re-folded her fingers around the object and pushed the closed fist, covered by his own gloved hands, toward her chest. In case there was any doubt that it was hers to keep. Forever.

Soon enough, her lungs were filled with a sudden intake of air, eyes widened and instantly glistening. He watched, breath held, as her tense expression gradually melted into one of those effortless, comforting smiles. A smile that never failed to put him at ease and lift his heart with the knowledge that, for once, he did something right.

That was the proper reaction. He had been waiting. It had been expected. For Tifa had been wanting this, coaxing this, for as long as he could remember.

_Finally_.

And just like that, it was done. His hands released hers and fell to his sides, a small smile of quiet contentment playing on his lips as well. It was, surprisingly, as easy as Barett had said it would be.

The patrons of the crowded bar let loose their jubilant applause then, causing both of them to jump slightly in shock. In his panic he had almost forgotten they were there. Friends, family and what seemed like the entire city of Edge, were already celebrating the coupling they had been waiting for, for years. Glasses were clinked, congratulations were yelled, shrieks of elation exploded from one specific ninja, shattering ear drums, and two pairs of tiny hands high fived from where they sat at the bar - the front row seats that had been reserved especially for them; his soon-to-be-official children.

They were the proof that he and Tifa belonged together. He saw it now more clearly than ever, reflected in their bright, cheerful eyes, both bouncing on their stools with unrestrained excitement.

It had been obvious all along, hadn't it?

Later tonight, as they counted the bar cash and planned his delivery route as always, he would discuss with Tifa the details he had already been pondering for weeks. About moving to a larger, cleaner building where the kids could have separate rooms and maybe a play area. About the re-submission of the adoption papers, as joint custodians this time. About having Marlene as maid of honor and Denzel as best man, thinking they'd greatly enjoy the "responsibility" and prestige of the roles. About-

"No."

The one word, the first thing she had actually said since deciphering his proposal, was but a mere whisper. And yet still, his enhanced hearing and still fragile heart picked it up as loudly and effectively as though it had been screamed through a megaphone.

As his eyes returned to face her from surveying the crowd on the other side of the bar, the first thing he noticed was her sudden and extreme change of expression. Gone was the soft, content smile. Lips were now parted and straight-lined, brows knitted together. Not confused and awe-struck but, almost…angry.

Impossible.

…Right?

Tifa wanted this. She wanted this more than anything. They had all told him. She had frequently showed him. He wasn't _that_ emotionally half-witted after all. Every night, every waking moment spent in his presence since the defeat of the remnants, she had been silently begging for him to make it official.

To make them a real family.

…Hadn't she?

The second thing he noticed was her hand. No longer clasped to her chest, it was now hovering above the knife she had been using to chop mint leaves before his interruption. The ring, the object he had spent many frustrating hours accepting his comrades' suggestions for, was now discarded, half buried in a pile of herb stems; the glimmer of the diamond struggling to shine through the overwhelming thicket.

Her fingers flexed from above it, as if debating snatching it back up from the chopping block, saving his pride and her fantasy from a gruesome, awkward death.

But no. It was a mistake.

"No! I-I can't!" she repeated more loudly and resolutely this time, as if having heard his thoughts of uncertainty. Her eyes were firm and dry, mouth set. Sure and strong, absolutely and wholly determined.

Cloud didn't understand.

"Tifa…?"

The bar patrons were starting to notice now, especially those close enough to hear her rather blunt exclamations. Voices, one by one, became silent as they decoded the anxious stances of what they had thought were a happy couple-to-be.

All too soon, there was silence. Silence so thick it was suffocating.

Cloud stood there, motionless except for the glowing blue eyes that spun back and forth from the tossed piece of jewelry, to the children, to their friends, to her face. Silently begging her, begging anyone, to explain what was happening.

_Not now. Not here. Not in front of them. Please. _

With shaking hands, Tifa pushed her long dark hair behind her ears, feigning a brief grin for the benefit of the concerned-looking children sitting at the bar. "We'll talk about this later, kay?" she mumbled towards him through tight lips, while removing the drawer of dirty dishes with much more vehemence than usual.

That specific bin was usually left to the end of the night, or after the dinner rush if it slowed down enough, both Cloud and the children knew that very well. But it was the only excuse she could presently fathom for getting out of that room as quickly as possible. For getting away from _him._

The uncomfortable murmurs of surprise and bewilderment had already begun when she was not two steps from the kitchen door. In another, quickened step, she could still not avoid the fragments of hushed conversation that reached her ears.

Something about _insane._

Something about _wasting chances._

And something about _poor bastard_ and _broken._

There was no need to point it out. She knew. God…did she know what she just did to him.

Even in the quiet solace of her kitchen, the lingering voices forcefully drowned by a faucet turned to full pressure, Tifa could feel the weight of her verdict threatening to bury her alive. While rinsing her hands of the tingling remnants of the mint and his touch, she watched, patiently and dejectedly, as the water and her dreams swirled the basin, lingering as long as possible.

But the unstable water could only flow freely, avoiding the abyss, for so long before everything, inevitably, went down the drain.

They had been doing so well.

Why did he have to ruin everything…?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry fans of my other stories, but I just needed to add some CloTi to my resume. On the bright side, this one is planned to be short, less than ten chapters depending on reviews, and most of it is already written. Thanks for your support.


	2. Lucky

"_Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity."_

­--** Seneca**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter II:_ Lucky_

_Four months earlier_

"You. Piece. Of. CRAP!"

The wrench hit the furnace with a resounding TWANG, causing a deep dent in the metal that probably did little to help its state of brokenness. As if in retaliation, the tool unexpectedly swerved upon impact, ricocheting over her head and into the deepest, darkest, most spider-web filled corner of the basement. At least that settled it then. Like hell she was retrieving it to continue trying on the hopeless crusade.

Out of breath, out of stamina and out of patience, Tifa rubbed her hands together as a combo last resort prayer for a miracle and an attempt to get feeling back into her fingers. Of course, today of all days, the furnace had to fail. On the coldest day they had had in Edge since moving in. On the day her new stock of Corel wine was fully fermented and expected to sell big. On what was meant to be Marlene and Denzel's first day back from vacation with Barett. On one of the rare nights Cloud was expected to be home in time for supper.

Stupid. Lousy. Insolent. Son-of-a-

She kicked it again, as hard as she could, just for good measure/to vent frustrations. Though she was an adamant believer in the idea that violence was never the answer (no matter how good it felt), this one time proved to be the exception. For after a few glorious seconds of wheezing, the contraption suddenly sputtered to life, glowing red and basking her in one deliciously warm wave of hot air.

"Yes. Yes!" she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around the large metal cylinder, giggling in exhausted elation at the nearly burning metal beneath her cheek. "I love you! I'm sorry! I'll buy you lots and lots of oil! Or electricity. Or whatever it is you eat. Just don't ever, EVER…"

A sputter. Tifa's eyes popped open.

"..ever…"

Another, louder sputter. Then a gulp. Then a shake that sent her staggering backwards, wincing as her exposed digits from fingerless gloves were hit by a stream of boiling steam.

"No. No! NO!"

A clunk.

A clank.

Then…nothing.

She paused, resisting the urge to nurse her minor burns, hoping that maybe if she stayed still long enough not to scare it, it would continue on as usual. Alas, as she discovered later when the soon-to-be mangled piece of junk was hauled away, technically, the furnace was past its prime by many, many decades anyway and had simply reached its time.

In that moment however, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

This time, it was the hammer that she used.

"I…hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

By the time he opened the cellar door, the episode was thankfully over and the furnace nothing but a steaming, unrecognizable pile of scrap metal. Tifa jumped at the unexpected voice, the tool-made-murder-weapon clattering to the ground as her hands leapt to her heart.

"Reeve! Hi!" As pointless as it may have been, she took a second to rake her fingers through her hair and straighten her jacket before turning to face him. Hoping against all hope that she appeared calm, collected and not at all like she had just spent that last five minutes bashing an innocent inanimate object. "H-How long have you been standing there?"

The WRO Commissioner only grinned. His usual, supportive and kindly expression that seemed to say _it probably deserved it_. Tifa swallowed and forced herself to return the gesture, silently thanking him for feigning ignorance.

It was just one of those days. The kind where almost everything went and would, probably, continue to go wrong.

"Happen to know any good furnace salesmen? Preferably ones that don't ask questions?"

He laughed lightly and nodded, taking out his phone to scan the contacts for references. "Depends on when you need it by, your budget and personal ethics?"

"Now. None and…considering the importance of the first two, the line is only drawn at organ harvesters. Or guys who wear sunglasses at night. Tea?"

"Please."

A few minutes later she was settling across from him at the bar, struggling to pour from the pot competently with mitten clad fingers. A feat so far failing, but at least thawing some of the frost off the wood surface.

"Sooo, I doubt you're sticking around for the coziness factor. What's going on?"

Reeve took a long sip before replying, visibly relaxing as the warm liquid soothed the aching chill that was now two steps beyond uncomfortable.

"I wanted your opinion," he stated after swallowing. His dark, serious eyes moved to meet hers, causing her to reflexively squeeze her steaming mug more tightly in her grasp. "And your support."

Business related. Of course.

"We're not joining the WRO," she reminded him in a tone that was half teasing half threatening. "Cloud and I already told you."

"No. No. I understand. This is something else. Something that may help heal the planet's...let's say _psychological_ stability."

Tifa couldn't help but cock an eyebrow at the shoddy wording. After all, it was obvious enough want he wanted. Information. But too many formal debates and political conditioning had made it impossible for him to ask a simple, direct question anymore.

Over the past several months, the WRO had been slowly but surely building a form of government to regulate the larger, less-organized settlements of Gaia. Being the one and only barmaid in Edge, the largest municipality so far, had its political as well as financial advantages, as she was constantly picking up heavily opinionated whispers. There was no way to avoid to negative fallout from some of the organization's implementations, whether made by an unbiased committee or not, there would always be _someone _with a problem. Especially since Shinra had made it so difficult for the people to trust any type of structured collective, or want to give them even the tiniest form of control.

Still, Gaia needed government to function, especially in order to avoid companies over-indulging with natural resources. The WRO had merely stepped up to fill the demand and was doing it best to represent the human race as a united faction, functioning off donations and volunteers. However, judging by the increasing number of gray hairs on Reeve's head and wrinkles around his mouth, things were, of course, moving at a near glacial pace, if at all.

He sighed then and raked a hand through his still mostly dark locks, mentally preparing himself for what would surely be yet another unenthusiastic reaction.

"Before I say anything, let me remind you of all the good the WRO has been doing even with its rather pathetic resources. We've built hospitals, we've planted trees, and we're working on a rail road to unite the cities. We even have plans to-"

"No."

One word. Powerful, poignant and conveniently short.

Reeve blinked.

"You didn't even let me-"

"No one is going to agree to you implementing a tax. People are barely making do as it is. _We_ are barely making do as it is, even with two successful businesses. It's just not gonna happen. Here." A glass of dark amber liquid was slid across the counter to him, landing perfectly two inches from his forearms that were resting on the wood. He hadn't even seen her prepare it, swift and skilled as she was, and though he usually didn't have the brain capacity available to process alcohol with all the other issues vying for dominance, she had been correct in guessing that today would be the day he made an exception.

With yet another sigh, the tips of his leather-gloved fingers pinched the rim and brought it to his lips. It was better than the tea at warding off the cold. Better still because it gave him the confidence to continue trying.

"When Denzel came to me that day, wanting to join us…"

Though his eyes remaining glued to his drink, he sensed her stiffen. A low blow indeed, but also the only way to win people over to the idea. Make it personal. Make it matter.

"He reminded me of how many kids are out there, simply wandering the streets, taking jobs anywhere they can get them. Even with the stigma gone, they still have no future to look forward to. Boys are being sent into the dark dangerous mines, and girls, girls as young as nine, I've had over eighty of them being pulled out of brothels-"

"Stop!" Tifa raised her hand to him then, eyes squeezed shut in a fruitless attempt to avoiding visualizing the horror of those poor kids…kids around the ages of her own unconventional family.

It could have easily been Denzel: covered in coal smudges with a raspy cough, forcing down dirt spotted porridge as his only form of sustenance.

It could have been Marlene: wearing too much rouge, teased hair and a short skirt, being led through the halls of the Honey Bee by Don Corneo.

Tifa shook her head. No. It wasn't and would never be like that for them. They were safe, happy children currently frolicking on the beach of Costa del Sol, being chased by Barett.

They were lucky.

"I know how bad it is out there. Trust me." Damn. Her voice, it was already breaking. "And I'm doing the best I can with all I've got. Every gil I have goes to those kids."

"But _only_ those two kids. What about the thousands of others? Who are you to choose who lives and dies? You're not God Tifa."

"Well neither are you!"

Silence enveloped the room. Neither adult met the others eyes', each digesting the sting of the arguments. Reeve finished his drink in one gulp and, instantly, Tifa was there to refill it. Whether it was out of habit as a diligent barmaid or as a wordless offering of peace, she didn't know. She also wasn't sure of her intentions when she found herself bringing up another glass from below the counter and poured herself a larger than usual helping.

Reeve took it as a sign to continue. It was. But like hell she'd be able to listen to any more of this while completely sober.

"It wouldn't be much," he whispered in a newly humbled tone. "Five percent sales, not income."

After finishing her first big gulp which reminded her of her distaste for alcohol, Tifa nodded. Not necessarily agreeing with the tax, but with the idea that if it HAD to be done, it made more sense that the businesses be affected more than the lowly workers still struggling to feed themselves. Though, of course, that meant that she and Cloud would be one of the few hit the hardest.

"And think of it this way, our first project would be a school. A _school_ Tifa. Your money would still be going directly to the kids. And by the time we expand, with a more stable economy aided by subsidies, your bar profits will be tripled. Filled to capacity with people _celebrating_, not drowning their sorrows."

Another gulp and the glass was empty, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her blood a thousand times more efficiently than the tea ever could. And as the comforting numbness settled on her brain like a blanket, Reeve's arguments were starting to make an annoyingly great amount of sense.

A school in Edge really would be amazing. As the kids got older it was becoming harder and harder for her to make home lesson plans while balancing the bar duties, especially since the departure of the stigma had greatly increased patronage. And though Cloud now helped, or at least _tried _to help, he just wasn't cut out for being stuck behind a counter for hours on end or at a table looking over Marlene's shoulder as she copied out lines in cursive. And the few times she had had no choice but to let him, it was almost always followed by multiple, loud, whine-pitched voices assaulting her the second she stepped through the door.

_My beer was ninety percent foam! Pour it again Tifa._

_Tifa! He made us read the dictionary today. THE DICTIONARY! You're teaching us tomorrow, right?_

_I got a mix of melon liqueur, scotch, cream and half a jar of maraschino cherries when all I wanted was a screwdriver. I mean, dude, it's a basic cocktail not rocket surgery. _

_I asked why the sky was blue, and we ended up in the garage for six hours, the floor covered with maps, messing with the headlights of Fenrir so that they turned on and off really fast. I mean, it was cool and all, but I still have no idea what he was talking about. He's actually making me miss math. _

Well, that last one wasn't so bad in the end. Especially the hilarity that ensued the next day when Cloud couldn't figure out how to get his headlights to STOP blinking on and off really fast.

So a school, huh? A _real_ school where Marlene and Denzel could learn from a professional, make normal friends, and give her a blissful eight hours a day to concentrate on her customers and, maybe, even herself.

In just a few short minutes, Reeve's proposal had gone from a preposterous delusion to a horrendously good idea. But it wasn't going to happen unless she not only approved, but helped spread the word of the tax's benefits to other business owners. And what fun that was going to be.

For the thousandth time that day (and it was only eleven am) Tifa internally moaned, resigning to her fate all the while thinking: _Why me?_

She poured herself another abnormally large portion with the assumed excuse of seeking only its warmth, exaggerating the up and down motion of the bottle so that the liquid trickled out faster.

"It better be an _insanely_ good school," she mumbled through tight lips as the last drop filled her glass perfectly to its brim.

She didn't have to look at Reeve to know that he was smiling.

"And I mean good. There better be, like, an _amazing _playground."

"We're trying to avoid spending on luxuries, but for you I'll make sure of it."

"And a gymnasium."

"Well, of course."

"And a pool."

"Sure. Fine. As long as by 'pool' you mean a two foot deep hole in the ground filled with sewage? Unless you think people wouldn't mind **seven** percent…I'll simply send them to you if they have a problem."

"Where I will, of course, guilt them into letting it go."

"Guilt. Threaten. Potatoe. Potahtoe. Cheers to the children's _not happening _pool!"

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction after so easily losing the argument, but she laughed then. Boldly, brightly and mid-sip of her over-filled glass, sending the liquid dribbling down her chin.

"Classy," Reeve teased with a newfound exuberance while taking a small, elegant sip from his own stock with his pinky raised, causing her to burst into giggles once more.

* * *

The next day, as she, Cloud and kids shared their first family meal together in two weeks (toast and hot chocolate while huddled around the open stove so that their bare fingers didn't freeze) there was a curiously early knock at the door.

Since the very idea of leaving the comforting glow of the oven was practically heartbreaking, Cloud of course was the only candidate for the job of answering it. And as he extricated himself from the pile of blankets and huddled bodies, the kids let out several small whimpers of protest, as did Tifa who had somehow ended up with her head nuzzled on his shoulder.

It had been the only positive consequence of the furnace's untimely death; the fact that she finally had the excuse to squirm just a little closer to him than usual, needing his warmth. The position had reminded her of the night they spent together under the Highwind after making it out of the Lifestream. She had thought then that such a moment would never come again, and remembered asking him to stay still, just a little longer, so that she could savor it.

And yet…here they were. Again.

Despite the now bone-saturating chill his absence had created, Tifa felt an involuntary, goofy grin make it way to her lips as she watched him walk away.

Amazing. He still smelled the same. After all these years. Of leather and cotton and soap and something tingly, like skin censored menthol. An after effect of the mako poisoning probably. It was yet another one of his odd, inhuman traits that were unnoticeable unless you were within an inch of his bare skin, and the number of times she had been in such a position were frustratingly few.

Maybe the fates were throwing her a bone for once with this heating malfunction. Not that she had any idea how exactly or if she even wanted to take advantage of it. After all, it had only been a few weeks since the defeat of the remnants and since he moved back in. And her trust in him was still far from stable, despite all the evidence that he was serious about staying.

All she knew, all she was sure of, was that she…_liked_ having him around again. More than before, when he had been a somber and silent near-corpse that sucked every struggled-for ounce of joy from the household. But now, it was as if every once considered annoying little gesture or action of his was suddenly amusing and/or pleasantly frustrating. She liked when he casually stole fries off her plate, even though she smacked his fingers in reprimand for setting a bad example. She liked when he fell asleep at the bar while working on his maps, and she'd have pull and prod him to his feet and toward the stairs. She especially liked when he leaned in to help her retrieve something from a high shelf, lightheartedly scolding her for being too lazy to get that step ladder for behind the bar. His chest would press against her back for mere seconds before the item would be placed on the counter and he'd walk away with a sigh, going back about his previous business. Fortunately for her, completely ignorant of how flustered he'd just made her.

Those moments especially, she really, really liked. So much so that it was a tad bit frightening…but also fun. Wearisome, but also exciting. It was both good and bad, horrific and marvelous. It also explained why now she was practically bouncing in her seat, eyes glued to the kitchen door, waiting for him the return, settle down and let her feel it again.

She'd worry later about whatever the hell it meant.

He didn't come back until ten drawn out minutes had past, long after the marshmallow in his cup had melted to a floating puddle of goo and then cooled back into a solid. His expression was serious when he finally pushed through the swinging door, carrying nothing but a plain white note card.

"Who was it?" Marlene asked, her voice like her body, shivering with cold.

"Delivery," was his simple answer, his tone betraying nothing. Wearing only a thin pair of gray cotton pants and a t-shirt, Cloud was annoyingly unaffected by the temperature thanks to the mako enhancements. Still, that gave him no right to saunter over as he did then and casually flip the oven door closed.

All three of them simultaneously vocalized their fervent protests, Denzel's bright eyes flashing with nearly murderous intent as he tugged the zipper of his fleece up as high as it could go past his nose.

But the action had been timed perfectly of course. Cloud always did have a flair for the dramatic. For mere seconds after the initial curses left their lips, the unmistakable sound of the furnace starting up hit their hat and hood covered ears like the most beautiful of melodies.

The heat was back. Full, thick and rich streams of hot air blasting them from all directions, much more powerful than ever before.

As the kids made an exuberant show of pulling off and throwing their layers of winter garments into the air, even debating modeling their new swimsuits from their sun-filled vacation, Cloud discretely slipped the note card into Tifa's waiting fingers.

On it was a simple statement, no signature. Not that it needed one.

"_For the good of the planet, one step at a time."_

Huh. Well how about that…?

She felt a delightfully warm and strong hand place itself on her shoulder, forcing her gaze away from the note and up into those too-blue irises. In the chaos of last night, with the kids coming home and the various other issues attributed to running a bar and making dinner in below freezing temperatures, there hadn't been a chance to talk to him about Reeve's quest. But considering his lack of a reaction to this outrageous gift, she figured he had already been filled in somehow. The WRO was one of his biggest clients after all.

The hand on her shoulder tightened slowly and released, followed by the briefest glimmer of a smile before he was off down the hallway, picking up socks and sweaters in the wake of the two now jubilant children. The gesture, though brief, had held so many messages.

Not only did he know about the tax, but he was okay with it. Wordlessly, he had coaxed her not to worry about the cost of the furnace, ensuring her that it was far from a bribe as they'll technically be paying for it in the coming months anyway. And lastly; reminding her that her support was appreciated and it was all in all a very brave and yet still very sensible decision.

At least, they both hoped it would be.

Tifa sighed and tossed the card across the now empty flat and empty comforter, still unsure of her feelings even as she gratefully pulled the thick wool cap from her suddenly sticky hair. As much as she hated to admit to being so pessimistic, she was one of the many citizens who were still…unsure of placing their trust in any sort of organization once again. There were just too many things that could slip through the cracks, too many people still greedy for the planet's wealth, regardless of the plights it would cause for future generations.

As dependable as Reeve the person was, he couldn't keep his eye on everything at once. And now, with great sums of money, money they could barely spare, on the line… well, it made things complicated. It made things _tense._ It made things scary.

One thing was for certain, she noted, listening with the faintest ghost of a grin at the sound of amused shrieks and thundering footsteps from above her head: things were about to change.

Especially because, long minutes after his hand had retreated, she still felt her shoulder tingling from Cloud's touch.

Tifa realized then, with the heat being back on there would be no need for huddling under blankets today. And the object of her confusion would most likely pick up his regular delivery schedule now that he didn't have to worry about helping manage the kids, run the bar or haggle with repair men.

Damn.

She really did have the worst of luck.

* * *

**Author's Note:** To warn everyone, my outline of this story will be going back and forth between the present proposal night and the four months that led to it. Politics will not be a big part of the story line, but are just there to reinforce some odd decisions that are made.

Thanks again for your wonderful support of this story. As mentioned earlier, I have a few chapters written of this already so I decided to post another to reward reviewers. Those who don't know me can now be assured that feedback (or even a mere 'yay! Nice story!') really do effect the speed of my updates :D. Til next chapter.


	3. Factor of One

"_A __single__ rose can be my garden...a __single__ friend, my world."_

-- **Leo F. Buscaglia**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter III:_ Factor of One_

_Three months pre-proposal_

Ignoring the pleas of the secretaries while easily shaking off the hands of the security guards that tried to hold her back, Tifa burst through the double doors and into Reeve's office with a ferocity she usually reserved for battle.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

The Commissioner's eyes widened in shock at the abrupt interruption to his conference call, then softened with a sigh as the assailant's identity was acknowledged.

He had been expecting her. Or, at least, her reaction.

"I'll have to call you back."

* * *

It had only been a few weeks since they had agreed to support the tax, and already the WRO was in full force preparation mode. Almost every day there was some sort of paperwork being delivered to 7th Heaven and the surrounding homes and establishments. Some were advertising pamphlets for the new municipal elections, some were instructional booklets for the paperwork and deposit standards of the levy, and _many_ were of over enthused propaganda, reminding those who continued to resist the reaping of their pitiful profits that they were contributing to a coming-soon new and faultless planet.

Grossly corny pictures of fluffy clouds with unnaturally blue skies, of laughing children blowing bubbles etc. were accentuated by text so big and bright it hurt your eyes to read, saying things like 'Count on someone who can count. Vote McArthur for Edge Treasurer!' or 'Putting the 'right' back in Copyright Infringement laws'.

If anything, these excruciating documents encouraged people to donate if only so that the WRO could afford to hire better PR designers. Who the hell, artistically trained or not, would put yellow writing on a neon green background?

Naturally, Tifa began to loathe the mail.

Cloud was even noticeably resistant the few times she had asked him to pick it up from the corner safe box on his way home. There was always a thick handful of it, a kaleidoscope of glossy paper that contained maybe only one or two actually pertinent letters from friends or order receipts. Still, every night without fail after closing and counting the cash, Tifa would spread the pile on the table and begin to read. Thoroughly. Taking notes as she came across budget numbers and/or percentages.

Reeve was being understandably paranoid about the public's approval, thus explaining why every single gil they planned to spend was advertised so boldly with essay-length explanations regarding their reasoning. Though she assumed this would only go on for the first few months until trust began to develop, she had some strange and intense _need_ to keep an eye on them. It was starting to become a sort of disgruntled side profession for her, collecting these pamphlets, doing the math and thankfully assuring both herself and her patrons that, so far, absolutely nothing seemed out of place. Every night, without fail, the numbers continued to add up.

So far.

It was thanks to this obsession that Tifa came across one particular tidbit of information, nestled innocently in a pamphlet highlighting the plans for a world census. Uncomfortable though it was, she had to acknowledge the benefits of being a registered citizen. Not only would the census information help better gauge populations and other such statistics, but, as the written details emphasized, the many orphaned children of Gaia would no longer slip through the cracks of society. They would be searched and accounted for, some reunited with parents, some placed in foster care or newly built orphanages. The WRO was trying it damn hardest to get youths out of the streets and mines and brothels and into _proper_ homes.

She had almost put it away then. She had almost let it go. She was eighteen out of twenty paragraphs in, with six more pamphlets to looks over, and this one seemed satisfactory as they had all been over the past few weeks.

Then she saw it.

The sentence, the _law_, that could very well destroy them.

For the first time in her life, Tifa swore.

* * *

"You can't do this to me! To US!"

"I'm sorry Ms. Lockhart," an infuriatingly calm Reeve gently replaced the phone on its cradle, his eyes never daring to leave hers. "But I can't make any special exceptions. That would be abusing what little power I have."

"Those kids- **don't touch me**!-," a particularly ballsy guard had made one last ditch effort to pull the woman away and was sent sprawling to the floor as a result. Reeve cringed and held up a hand to signal abstaining from further damage. From both parties.

"Let's be civil, please."

"Civil?" Tifa repeated, her dark eyes flashing with anger. In a few brisk steps she closed the distance between them, followed by the pitter-pattering footsteps of what sounded like the entire building's guard force, and slammed her gloved hands on the desk so hard that it shook. "You-you're trying to **break** my family apart, and you expect me to be civil?"

"Ms. Lockhart, I'm warning you," his grey eyes, both threatening and sympathetic, flicked around the room to the mounted cameras and now near-army of witnesses. "You have to calm down."

"I can't just _calm down. _This isn't my weaponry you're trying to confiscate or my alcohol production you're trying to restrict. Though remind me to get back to you about those fun new policies."

"Tifa…"

"These are human beings, you twit! These kids are all-"

"Tifa, please!" Deeming protocol to have long since been dismissed, he stood and leaned over his desk then, both of his warm, bare hands moving forward to cover hers and their faces mere inches apart. Tifa's automatic reaction was to slap him for daring to be so apparently kind, so intimate, after having participated in such a heinous back stabbing. But before she could organize herself enough to react, hazed by anger as she was, he spoke. Wisely using probably the only words in world that had a chance in hell of actually calming her down.

"Don't risk it," he whispered to her, in a hopefully low enough tone to be missed by the majority of the guards. "As both a friend and government official, if you want any chance of getting custody of those kids, put on a new face. Play the mother, not the warrior we both know you are. You can punch me later. Out in the alley. Deal?"

Tifa froze, stunned more by his advice than by his offer of a secret thrashing. The hands beneath his wiggled themselves free and were used, in what she hoped was a casual manner, to push her hair behind her ears.

Play the mother, she reminded herself. Demure. Responsible. Patient.

Easier said than done. What she wouldn't give for a dummy to kick across the room.

Reeve re-seated himself the moment her forehead smoothed back from its furrowed state, visibly relieved that she could still listen to logic. "You may leave us," he told the guards with a wave of his hand as he pulled his chair closer to the desk.

Not surprisingly, they hesitated.

"But-but sir…"

"I'm okay! I promise." Tifa spun to face them all then, suddenly all smiles and sunshine. The same face she used to reassure Marlene after she had had to throw someone out of the bar. "Just a minor…um…episode. I'm good now. No bloodlust. All gone."

It took several more minutes of useless chit chat before they were convinced, the secretaries still lingering longer than necessary as they delivered messages, hands forever clenched to their communicators. When the doors finally closed, Tifa's smile instantly melted away. Replaced no longer by a scowl, but with a genuinely terrified expression.

"Marlene's been with us for as long as she can remember," she began to plead, hoping against all hope that he found it in his heart to grant her this one favor. The citizens wouldn't hold it against him. They'd understand. They'd appreciate him for being so compassionate! "It would be cruel- no- _heartless_ of you move her into one of those…dingy, crowded, dark, impersonal-"

"I assure you, our orphanages will be of the highest quality-"

"No. No! Don't-don't even say that word to me!" Tifa shuddered at the very notion. Orphanage. It sounded like the dirtiest of curses. A word only uttered in the most vile of conversations. "I don't care if they're **palaces.** They won't be home. They'll **NEVER** be home. For either of them!"

"If you simply apply to be a foster care taker, you'll be helping the system greatly."

"It's not the _system_ that I want to care for. It's Marlene and Denzel. It's only ever been Marlene and Denzel."

"Then apply for a formal adoption."

Tifa scoffed and fell backwards into one of his leather waiting chairs, desperately rubbing at the space between her eyebrows. She thought back to the paragraph she had read only a few short hours ago, the census pamphlet that she had originally considered such a brilliant idea and had then led to this rather messy confrontation.

All citizens have to be registered, it had stated. All births and deaths reported. It made sense. It made a painful amount of sense. Originally.

But then came the particulars. At the beginning, only reminders of the horrors Reeve had already presented when trying to coax her towards the benefits of the tax. Children, desperate children, being plucked off the streets and forced into various nefarious types of work. It was that more than anything that the WRO hoped to eradicate. Which was why, obviously, the practice of bringing random orphans into one's home and/or business establishments was now frowned upon.

Well, not so much "frowned-upon" as made completely _illegal._

Taking care of her children was going to be made ILLEGAL.

"You can't do this…" she whispered in a suddenly quiet and broken voice, her head desperately shaking back and forth. "It'll crush us."

_It'll crush him._

Reeve only nodded. "You're worried. You don't think the committee will approve of the adoption?"

"I know they won't." It wasn't self-pity, it was fact. "I'm only twenty-two. I-I run a **bar**. I'm known throughout the world a-as a rebel fighter. I'm…I'm…"

"Single?" Reeve suggested, his expression somber with lips that hinted the beginnings of a teasing grin.

She pinned him with a stabbing glare, but remained otherwise unaffected. Baiting her was definitely not wise decision at this point. The previous offer of a back alley beating just got that much more tempting.

"The point being," she continued, knowing that he was very well aware of her many, many shortcomings "no one in their right mind would give me a child. Let alone two. No one in their right mind would give me a cat. Or even a plant. Or even a pet rock. Heh."

It wasn't funny. Nothing about the situation was at all funny. It was so un-funny that she wanted to cry. In fact…

"Damn it." The tears started coming before she could stop them. Liquid proof of yet another reason she was unfit to be a mother; she wasn't nearly strong enough.

"Tifa…" Reeve began in that authoritative, condescending voice of his. And yet his humane side was not totally unaffected, as proven when he tentatively nudged a box of Kleenex toward her side of the desk. "If you think you're so bad, then why do you want them? Don't you think they'd have a better life under the care of professionals? Growing up alongside kids who have had to endure the same hardships?"

"No!" Of this one thing, Tifa was adamant. Even as she dabbed the corner of her eyes to absorb the remaining moisture, she continued to vigorously shake her head. "They don't need to be reminded every day of how crappy their luck was. It shouldn't be a focus, not if there's a choice. They deserved to have happy _normal_ lives away from all those bad memories! The lives they would have had if their parents survived."

"And you can offer them that? Really?"

"More so than any government-run orphanage could, yes. And this new 'law' of yours is just robbing them, yet again, of their futures!"

The conversation went back and forth like that for a couple of more minutes. Up until Reeve finally snapped and blatantly had to tell her that he didn't have time for such fruitless debating, especially since the decision was no longer in his power. The truth was; a collective of over two-hundred and seventy elected officials had unanimously supported the bill. And her little unconventional family was just an unfortunate innocent bystander that was considered a more than reasonable sacrifice for the greater good.

Yes, children like Marlene and Denzel would be denied a small and standard (well, slightly standard) family life. But thousands of others would be saved from countless horrors that resulted from a primordial instinct to survive at any cost.

It made sense when she was forced to think about it. It really was the best thing for the world in general. And it wasn't like the situation was _entirely_ hopeless. She could apply for adoption. She could work hard and impress the crap out of the inspector when he or she came for an interview in a few weeks time. It could be done. There was a great chance actually, that nothing would have to change.

At least, that what's she told herself. At least that's what she told him when he came home that night.

"So, I got the paperwork before leaving," she said with attempted nonchalance while scrubbing the dishes across from where he sat at the bar, trying her hardest to keep her voice from quivering. Play the mother, she had to remind herself. If she used the memories of her own as an example, a woman never seen without a smile, then it should be an easy enough feat. "And a secretary told me that we have a few months at least before any real action would be taken. If I get the application in by Monday, I'd have an interview and inspection appointment in a couple of weeks. We'd get the go ahead wayyyy before the Census results are due, and I can include Marlene and Denzel on the household papers. Easy."

That is IF the application was even acknowledged. IF she managed to impress the inspector. IF the person processing her papers happened to have had a recent lobotomy or some special disease that cause them to mixed up the 'denied' and 'approved' stamps, hopefully for only that one time.

So many hurdles to face, all of which she fully intended to leap over with flying colors. If only because the mere idea of any other outcome would lead to far from constructive breakdown.

Through her rambling, Cloud kept his eyes glued to his drink, slowly turning the glass in circles between his palms. Though never certain of his feelings, he seemed to be taking the news rather well. Like the very likely loss of the children had been nothing more than yet another expected emotional blow dealt to him by the so far merciless life. It must be nice…expecting nothing. You never have to be disappointed.

"Sorry to have bothered you with all this," Tifa giggled awkwardly, shaking her head to clear it. "It's going to be fine. I know it is. Perfectly fine. Everyone around here knows how happy and healthy the kids are here. And Barette approves. I asked. He doesn't care who Marlene's official legal guardian is, as long as she's in the family. And as pathetic as my chances are, with a stable home I'm a better candidate than he is. It's going to be fine. Perfectly fine. I'm saying 'fine' a lot aren't I?"

After placing the last dish in the drying rack, she stretched both her arms across the bar and leaned onto them, her dark eyes moving up to look at Cloud now from above her. He gave her the benefit of a small smirk of encouragement before his gaze returned to his beverage. Stoic and unreadable as always. Whether he was as terrified as she was or completely relieved to potentially no longer be faced with the daunting responsibility that is child-raising, she had no idea. He could very well be doing a mental grocery list for all the concern he was outwardly showing.

The sensitive, frustrated Tifa of a few weeks ago would have been enraged by this reaction. Interpreting this annoying yet natural characteristic of his as a complete lack of human feeling. She would have probably taken him by the collar and shaken him until, at the very least, an ounce of fear for his own safety appeared in his eyes. Desperate as she had been for some, silly form of proof that he still _could_ feel, that the experiments done on him by Shinra and Hojo hadn't included the removal of his heart.

But for now, noticing that he had yet the take even of sip of the Corel wine she knew he relished was more than enough evidence. Cloud was obviously (to her at least) deep into thinking mode. Mulling over the many facts she had spewed over the past half hour and digesting them one by one. If experience taught her anything, especially considering his last various attempts to open up recently, a few moments of pensive silence were all he needed.

"It'll be fine," came his much anticipated break of the silence a couple of seconds later. She almost laughed at the lameness of the statement but let it slide, needing him to continue. "You're a good mother. They'll see that. Everyone sees it."

"You think so?" Tifa felt her lips slowly form the beginnings of a grin as she tilted her chin against her arms to face him.

Eyes always on the liquor, he nodded. "I know you're afraid you'll fail. You think you aren't good enough. But you are. This place," his gaze moved around, taking in the entire bar, everything except her eyes "this place is a home."

A pathetic chuckle unavoidably escaped in response. "Yeah. It's every little girl's dream house alright. Grey walls and cemented back lot included."

"Tifa…" he said in a groan, followed by an exasperated sigh. Yet another one of his seemingly terse responses that held a plethora of meaning to those who were trained to translate.

"I know, I know. Don't be so hard on myself, I get it. It's just…not easy. You know?"

Of course he knew. He knew better than anyone.

No one in the world was better practiced in the art of wrecked confidence than Cloud Strife.

If only there were a healing body of water that could cure all her primary shortcomings – namely the existence of a bar as her source of income, the cramped quarters and her physical age. If only Aerith was still around, bringing color and sunshine to everything she touched. A committee wouldn't have to think twice about putting children into the care of someone like her…

…Maybe if she wore a pink sundress on the day of her interview, as wince-worthy as the mental image was…Maybe…

"Maybe I can help…?"

Tifa's train of thought was violently ripped from its tracks as his mako-blue eyes finally shifted to meet hers. Though having every appearance of being casual and collected, Tifa was one of the few people in the world who could tell just by the almost imperceptible glow to them that he was nervous. Very, very nervous.

"Help?" she repeated, not bothering to hide the awe and confusion from her voice. "Help how?"

"I don't know," Cloud shrugged. As always, playing it cool as he finally lifted his glass to his lips. Probably more for liquid courage than an actual desire to taste, considering that he downed half the contents in one gulp. "I just…I _assume_ the chances would be greater if we applied…together?"

Brows furrowed together as she pondered this offering. In all her planning, she really hadn't considered to include Cloud as part of the process. Not only because she was so used to working solo with almost everything related to the children, but because even now, even though all three of them had _almost_ come to depend on him fully for some things…there was still that gap. A little wedge she kept firmly stuck between her heart and his, a piece she knew Denzel still carried as well, that smartly remained as a defense mechanism in preparation for the next time he decided to leave.

But even if that wedge didn't exist, even if she had long since been able to one hundred percent forgive, forget and even lean on him a little, there were a multitude of other, awkward reasons for keeping him far away from the application.

She thought back to Reeve's teasing in his office earlier that day, the contemptible word '_single'_ added to her already long list of why the committee had reason to deny her. Applying together would bring up questions. Questions she was far from ready to even think about let alone answer truthfully.

"That's…so sweet Cloud," she whispered, shuffling to free one hand so that it could give his a thankful, platonic tap. "But…I think it would do more harm than good."

"Why?"

Why indeed. Why today of all days did he feel the need to be inquisitive?

"Well, because," she righted herself, pulling on her vest to re-arrange it before moving to bring up a new glass and corked bottle from beneath the bar. Even the best mothers, in certain situations, needed, no, _deserved_ a drink. "Think about it. I don't think the committee would look highly upon the fact that in addition to running a bar, I have…men hanging around."

"But I live here," Cloud stated factually.

Tifa sighed. "I know. And I don't mean to offend you really, it's just…it'd be easier, won't it, if we just pretend you rent a room here for your business? It'll be the same as always, but you won't have any legal obligations."

"So…pretending that I'm a stranger sleeping across the hall from the kids is deemed better than an official guardian? How?"

After filling her cup and re-filling Cloud's, she took a healthy gulp to help settle her nerves. The blonde antagonist followed suit, narrowed eyes boring into hers, silently repeating the unanswered question.

"Look, it's just going to complicate things. There are a million new issues that come up with joint custody. So let's just let it go, okay? My file is going to be cluttered enough as it is."

"I don't get it," his eyes were fully gleaming now, mouth set, urge to debate fueled by the wine. "Together, we have a greater income. We have twice the time. Twice the resources. I think it could help."

He could see the cogs turning in her head, considering. To him it was a straightforward fact that applying together would greatly increase their chances. Tifa he had always considered to be a logical woman, the voice of reason in the household. She always made sense, always gently coaxed him and the kids out of some of their more ridiculous decisions and/or experiments. Like the time Marlene and Denzel had somehow convinced him to put chocolate in their breakfast eggs. Straightforward bad idea, she had said, but let them try anyway and discover for themselves. Tifa was always sure of what was right and what was wrong. Tifa had always known yes or no before a question was even asked.

Which was why, now, today, every second of her hesitance was making him more and more uncomfortable.

"Tifa…?" he tried again, after a full minute of tense silence.

She had her glass pressed against her lips, dark eyes soft and shiny in the dim light. "Let it go, please," she begged that one, final time.

Cloud shook his head. "I can't."

"You want me to be blunt Cloud? Fine." With a newly determined stance, she swigged the remainder of her glass and dropped it heavily back onto the bar. She then set her palms against the edge for support while leaning over, determined that he not miss a single word or expression. "I don't trust you yet. I can't help it. Neither does Denzel. There's no guarantee that you won't have another episode and take off, leaving me to go through this painful process yet again. Not only that, but we're not _married_ or anything. How do I convincingly explain your presence in this house? I've been doing this job, taking care of both of them by MYSELF for nearly a year now. And if I have even the smallest, most inestimable chance in hell of adopting these kids, I'm not risking it by attaching myself to the still unstable character that is you, ex-military, slightly schizophrenic Cloud Strife. I won't let them start seeing you as a father, just so that you can abandon them again when it gets to be too much. They deserve more than that. **I** deserve more than that. So, no Cloud. No is my answer. I'll take care of it. Alone. As I always have."

It worked. It better than she had ever thought it would. The subject was not only dropped, but never touched again.

Months later, Tifa, the always sure and confident in her decisions Tifa Lockhart, didn't know whether to consider that speech to be either the best or dumbest thing she had ever done. On the one hand, Cloud had slowly slunk away to his room that night without a word and avoided her for days afterward. She worried for a while that she had unwittingly pushed him into doing exactly what she most feared; becoming so detached and miserable that leaving would eventually become the only choice. As terrible as the idea of such an end to their friendship was, if it was inevitable then sooner was better than later. If one silly argument was enough to convince him to leave, then he was just proving her point: that he wasn't strong enough to support them.

At least, that's what she told herself as she began to fill in the adoption application, cautiously checking off "single" in the appropriate box.

On the other hand, something changed in him after that day. Mainly concerning his interactions with the children. He began taking on fewer deliveries and rarely accepted those that kept him away from home for more than a day. As the bar business began to pick up thanks to the WRO's building projects' mass hiring, she would often find notes taped to the fridge from Marlene stating that Cloud had taken them to the park, or for a ride on Fenrir, or to that small Wutainese food stand down the street.

In the mornings, even though he made sure to be gone before she woke up, both kids would be dressed and fed and busy with some silly task he had given them such as sweeping the garage floor (funny that when she asked it was a _chore_ but when Cloud asked it was an adult _privilege_). Or sometimes, with education in mind, he had them writing a short story about where, for example, they thought snow came from. Or once, as a joke, why they thought his hair stuck up like it did (Denzel had assumed it was because he spent so much time in heavy winds that it just froze like that, while Marlene's story guessed that one of his great-grandparents had actually been a chocobo…a hilarious though disturbing theory).

One time she had found them downstairs fawning over his dismantled Tsurugi blades splayed over several bar tables, polishing them with cotton rags. It was this event that finally broke the silence between them the second he came home that night, for what kind of idiot left two kids under ten years old responsible for deadly weaponry unsupervised?

He had apologized of course, legitimately flabbergasted by her intense reaction, but Marlene and Denzel had eagerly sprung to his defense seeing as they had begged to check out the blades and had promised not to pick them up. Though this did little to abate her anger, the kids were quick to point out Cloud had trusted them because they had frequently proven to be responsible, and it was time Tifa realized the same.

It was the first time she noticed how dedicated he really was to their family. It was the first time she considered him as something more than a live-in babysitter or financial provider. For that's what fathers do, isn't it? They're the trusting ones. They're the ones that push the kids into doing something scary, wanting them to face their fears and conquer them, while the mother nervously watched from the side lines, whispering to be careful.

One step at a time, he was beginning to prove himself. That night, she felt the wedge in her heart jostle a little, and she noticed Denzel's was nearly completely gone already. She could only hope that he could keep it up long enough. For all she knew, this revamped attitude of his was merely a result of thinking that these next few weeks would be their last together; a possibility that she had yet to resign herself too.

After the bar had closed, after they had sat together for the first time in days planning his routes and counting the cash as if nothing had ever interrupted the tradition, Tifa walked herself to the corner mail box. She gave the thick manila envelope a lingering kiss for good luck before gently pushing it through the slot and into the system.

She could only hope that they didn't read too much into the layers of white-out over both the checked 'single' and blank 'joint' status boxes.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Wrote this one really fast, an in-between that helps better explain the events in my pre-written chapters. Thanks for reviews. Tired. Review please!


	4. Strange Heroes

"_If everybody was satisfied with himself there would be no __heroes__." ­_

-- Mark Twain

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter IV:_ Strange Heroes_

_One month pre-proposal_

With a moan of utter exasperation, Tifa re-tied the black silk ribbon around her waist for what must have been the thirtieth time in a mere five minutes. Still, no matter how she did it (bow in the front, bow in the back, bow on the side, no bow etc. etc.) it just didn't look…right. Most probably due to the fact that the entire ensemble didn't look, in any sense of the word, remotely "right" on her overly athletic form.

The ill-fitted silk hung awkwardly from her chest and hips, making it appear as though she were wearing a bag of material. And the color, a shimmering pale yellow that the clerk on the catalogue hotline had insisted would perfectly match her complexion, made her feel like she was five-years old again playing the sunflower in a spring school play. She glanced down in longing to her usual leather vest, shorts and apron now draped on her bedroom's rocking chair, cursing herself for having no sense of typical feminine, 'motherly' style.

"Tifa? Are you done yet?" the sound of a tiny hand knocking on the door instantly fueled her with a desire to hide behind a rock. But Marlene had been practically bouncing off the walls from the moment she saw the garment bag being delivered about an hour ago, inexplicably impatient to see her in something other than leather or grayscale.

"Tifa!" repeated the voice, more high-pitched and whiny than it had ever been heard before. "I wanna see!"

"I'm coming. I'm coming. Hold your horses."

As the door finally opened with a flourish, Marlene's initial reaction was far from a comforting one. Wide eyes and dropped jaw that spoke volumes of shock, anxiety and, possibly, a little bit of loathing.

"I'm changing," she found herself announcing after a mere second under the little girl's scrutiny. But before she had successfully managed to grasp the door knob, a pink-slipper clad foot was already over the threshold.

"How did you get your hair like that!?" Marlene screeched while climbing up onto the edge of the bed so that she could better match their height difference, gesturing frantically for her to come closer.

Tapping the back of her scalp to remind herself of the style, Tifa did as she was told, dutifully stationing herself in front of the girl's waiting hands.

"It's just a loose bun, secured with some pins" she explained as she felt gentle fingers begin to poke and prod. "And the ribbon came with the dress. Do you like it?"

"You look like Amelia!" Marlene cooed, a twinge of obvious envy laced between her words. "You know, the princess from that movie? She was dressed EXACTLY like this."

Tifa tried her best not to laugh. The animated character of Amelia was about twenty pounds lighter, a foot taller and had rose red lips and infamously rare golden hair that bounced in perfect ringlets. But yeah, they did both have ribbons and knee-length sun dresses. That was where the comparison ended.

She decided to take the compliment anyway, desperate as she was for a smidgeon of self-assurance. For this was the dress she was going to wear when the adoption inspector came in a few days time. Her hopes, her plans, what felt like her entire future rested on this dress and the impression it made. It was quite the burden for a few yards of overpriced silk.

"Why thank you Marlene. That was very nice to say. I can do your hair like this if you want for your first day of-" Tifa paused, interrupting her offer to the obvious dismay of one expectant little girl.

Princess Amelia… the vision triggered something. Something about her dress…

"Tifa?" a tiny finger poked gently at her shoulder, prodding her to continue. "My hair?"

Distracted, Tifa strode over the mirror and yet again scanned the unappealing pillowcase shape of the garment. Amelia's dress _was_ almost exactly like hers, but with a ribbon the fell directly below her breasts, not on her hips. The theory was confirmed as she, for the first time, noticed two almost invisible loopholes high on both sides that were obviously a guide to lace the ribbon, holding it in place. In what would hopefully be her last attempt, Tifa threaded the black silk through, around twice and tied it tightly to her ribs. Suddenly, it was no longer a bag. It was an actual dress.

"Aha!" she spun to face the bed with an exuberant smile, for some reason intensely proud of having deciphered the garment's riddle. "Better, right?"

"What do you mean better?" Marlene teased. "Didn't you know it was an empire-waist?"

"A what?"

"_We're back_!" interrupted a muffled voice from downstairs, followed the clicks of the locks being re-bolted.

Marlene's eyes instantly widened.

"Cloud! Denzel! You have to see! You have to see!" while giving the mattress a few extra bounces before jettisoning herself off of it and downstairs, Tifa took the chance to give herself one last once over. A few more tendrils of hair were pulled loose, the bow was re-tied as tightly as it could go, the layers of ribbon wrapped around her head were spread apart and crisscrossed and the dress straps adjusted to be slightly off-shoulder; just a little fine-tuning to enhance the effect. For Denzel's amusement of course.

When the outfit was as good as it was gonna get with the addition of matching yellow ballet shoes, Tifa strutted out into the hallway. But despite Marlene's best efforts to get them riled up, the boys were nowhere to be seen. Not all that surprising but still, for some reason, faintly disappointing.

"Come on Denzel!" Down the hallway, the youngest could be seen banging on the bedroom door she shared with her sibling. Her mouth fixed into an uncharacteristically deep scowl. "Let me in!"

"Marlene? What's going on?"

"I _told_ Denzel that he _had_ to come see you as Princess Amelia. But he just went straight to our room and locked the door!" she said this with her small fists on her hips, like she was reprimanding a puppy for doing something naughty. "And Cloud wanted to get the groceries in the fridge. He said I shouldn't bother Denzel but then _I _said-"

"If Cloud told you not to bother him, you should listen."

"But-"

"No buts. Besides, didn't we make a deal that if I tried on the dress, you'd finish your reading?"

Disgruntled but obedient, Marlene accepted the calloused hand offered to her and together they made their way back down to the bar. Once she was re-set-up with her history textbook, notepad and pencils, Tifa tip-toed toward the kitchen, following the tell-tale sounds of clinking glass.

"Cloud?"

"Yes?" He had his back to her, his arms laden with juice containers as they were put one by one on the highest shelf of the pantry, out of the reach of certain tiny hands that didn't know their sugar limit.

Tifa gave Marlene's studious form one last glance before closing the door behind her. "What's wrong with Denzel? He barricaded himself in the bedroom without a word."

He paused in his task then, only for a second, debating. She could sense the usual struggle going on in his mind. The pull of his natural need to be silent, the desire to keep Denzel's secrets, and the terror of letting her "invade" either of those sanctities.

"It's nothing," he choose to say at last while putting the last two containers away a little more aggressively than usual.

It was the only answer she couldn't accept.

"Cloud…" her voice had both a demanding and pleading lilt to it. One that reminded him that he didn't _have_ to talk to her, there would always be that choice, but it would be greatly appreciated if he did.

His response was only silence, impenetrable except for the sound of his footsteps moving toward the counter to collect the canned goods.

Tifa fought down the urge to run a frustrated hand through her hair, seeing as it was currently occupied by ribbon and pins. It seemed like every time she was just starting to get it through her head that he had changed, he would do something to instantly revert back to his closed, autonomous self. The back and forth of it was almost more exasperating than just dealing with the old, absent Cloud.

"I know he trusts you. I know you two have the male-bonding thing happening…"

"That's not it," Cloud interrupted, his gaze still fixed on the cans as he organized them on the shelf. Fruits & veggies on one side, soups on the other.

"Whatever. I understand! It's just…if it affects the entire household like this, you have to tell me _something_. At the very least instructions on how to manage it."

"He just needs to be left-" the words died on his lips as he finally glanced over his shoulder to meet her eyes. Well, he had probably _meant _to focus on her eyes.

"What are you wearing?"

The question was asked calmly, casually. Like it was nothing more than an inquiry about the weather or how her stock of wine was holding up. But something about the intensity of his stare forced her to stagger backwards a little.

Or maybe it was just her imagination…

Or wishful thinking…

"It's a dress," she stated rather lamely, defensively smoothing the fabric down across her abdomen.

Cloud's lips curved upward a little. Only a little, but enough to get her heart to skip a beat.

Gaia forbid he ever discover how truly disarming his smile was. More so than any of his SOLDIER skills.

"I can see that it's a dress," he said in a tone that was bordering on blatant mockery. "But why? I thought you hated that stuff."

She opened her mouth to respond, to hastily assure him that such impractical and costly garments weren't some sort of new, secret addiction that would blow the already emaciated family budget. But then she thought better of it.

If he wanted to have his secrets, she deserved a few of her own.

"Tell me about Denzel and I'll tell you about the dress."

Cloud exhaled loudly, his usual vacant expression snapping back into place before he returned to his task of can sorting. Apparently ignoring her.

She wasn't buying it.

For he was lingering just a little too long at the shelves, making sure all the labels faced the front and were positioned perfectly on the very edge – something a veteran trained for efficiency would never have fathomed doing. If these past few months of living and working with him had taught her anything, she knew he simply needed some time to mull and digest. And so, with the grace and patience worthy of her new maternally-themed outfit, Tifa sat herself at the kitchen table, flipped open a magazine she kept for recipes and began humming a cheery tune.

He broke earlier than expected. A mere twenty seconds into the first verse of 'Waltz de Chocobo'.

"Just answer me this," his sentence was preceded by stomping footsteps and followed by the screeching of a chair being pulled out to sit across from her. Tifa flicked the magazine closed and met his irate stare with what she hoped was a tastefully restrained smirk.

"Yes Cloud?"

He took a shallow, shaky breath. "Is it for a date?"

If she had been drinking anything, she would have spit it across the room. If she had been washing dishes, a glass would have been crushed into her hand. As it was, she kept herself composed, maybe only letting loose a twitch or two, and cleverly remained completely and utterly silent.

As much as he could dish it out, Cloud sure couldn't take it.

"Denzel and I went to that new grocers'," he began after a defeated groan. "The owners are from Bone Village and had avoided technology. They didn't recognize me."

Tifa nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"So they…they thought Denzel was…my son."

Again, Tifa nodded but her smirk was slowly beginning to fade. As easy a mistake as it was to make, what with both their dark blue eyes un-tamable hair, still, it had never actually happened. Everybody in Edge simply _knew_ that Marlene and Denzel were non-biologically related residents of 7th Heaven. Of course, with the WRO's new train system and more frequent visitors, it was bound to happen sooner or later and would probably gradually continue to happen more and more often.

Though she could already tell where this story was headed, Cloud continued.

"I was going to correct them, to explain, but then Denzel…Denzel he…"

"It's okay," she couldn't help but interrupt, her hands shooting forward to cover his on the table. If she known it was something so delicate, she never would have prodded. She had simply assumed that it had been a silly, perhaps slightly shameful story. Like if they had played a game of catch with the expensive eggs; an equal trade for the dull explanation of her dress' purpose. "You don't have to say it. I know he's sensitive about his parents. I'll talk to the owners tomorrow."

"No. It's not like that." Cloud shook his head, his wolf earring jingling with the movement. "It's that he…he _encouraged_ them."

At this, Tifa could only blink stupidly. "He what?"

"He went on and on. He talked to them for nearly ten minutes about how _we_ used to live on the Midgar Plate. And how _we_ set up the bar after Meteor. About how, yes, I was kind of young to have a kid his age but I took good care of him _all_ his life. And how he looked forward, in the future, of being _exactly _like me. But less…blonde…"

She would have laughed if the story as a whole hadn't been so shocking. As much as Denzel was known to hero-worship Cloud, as proud as he was to have a guy like him as a guardian, never had he shown the desire to make it _more_ than that. "What did you do?"

Cloud's shoulders rose slightly as a pathetic half-shrug. "It was awkward for a while after we left. Then I told him that as flattered as I was, he shouldn't feel the need to lie about his past. I think…I think it was more about his pride than about me. He didn't want them to know that he was an orphan or that he had had geostigma. He wanted at least one person in this city to not know how terrible his life was. To treat him like a normal kid and not a charity case. He's…embarrassed."

"Did he tell this to you?"

"No. I could just tell."

"Did he say _anything_ after you left the grocers'?"

"No."

Before she could properly reflect on her actions, Tifa was out of her seat and heading for the stairs with every intention of kicking down the bedroom door. But an inhumanely tight grasp to her wrist kept her from taking more than two steps.

"Let him alone for a bit. He needs it," Cloud warned, his expression one of admonition and sincerity.

"He _needs_ to talk to someone about this," Tifa insisted while furiously trying to wring herself free. "He's probably wracked with guilt, thinking he betrayed his parents' memory and offended you!"

"He knows I'm not offended. He knows I'm here. He'll come down when he's ready."

"Cloud!"

"Tifa…trust me."

She stopped struggling then, her eyes glued to his unyielding ones, measuring this apparently negligent demand. Though she had long since been able to accept him as an important part of the household, it has always been a supporting role. Like the foundation stilts that kept this place up; without him they could continue to exist but would have to live on a slightly awkward angle.

However, slowly but surely, he was beginning to take on more vital positions. She may, dare she to think it, even be completely unequipped to handle something this. Not only because of the male-to-male thing, nor even because he too had lost a father at a young age and lived in scorn because of it. But because he had more patience. Because he knew when someone needed their space. In the analogy of the house, she was the mere walls, the shelter. And he, when necessary, became the doors. The doors that kept the scary monsters (or nosy mother-figures) outside where they belonged.

Though, of course, the 'being a guy' thing didn't hurt his value either…

"Fine," Tifa conceded with an over-exaggerated glower.

With yet another infinitesimal grin, Cloud tossed her hand loose so that it fell back to brush against the material of her dress. Reminding her of their deal.

"And if you must know, the dress is for my interview with the adoption inspector."

"Is that today?" His eyes frantically shifted around to take in the sight of the sink full of dishes, still un-packed groceries and window bench covered in doll's clothing.

"Don't worry," she assured him with a giggle. "I don't have an official appointment yet but you'll know when it is. We'll allll be scrubbing this entire place down for DAYS prior. I guarantee you that."

"Oh. Good."

They stared at each other for a while after that, him from his chair and she standing near the exit. She started to fidget under his scrutiny, shifting her balance from one foot to another like Marlene did when she had to go to the bathroom. And yet he continued to just sit there. Watching her. Riveted by the way the material caught the sunlight and seemed to float to catch up to her every swaying movement.

"Cloud?"

"Hmm?" His lids flittered a few times before shooting up to meet her gaze, eyes wide and a little too purposefully stuck to her face. As if it was taking all of his willpower to keep them there.

Tifa bit her lip and titled her head, suddenly feeling not only curious but a tad bit daring. Not to mention determined to get her gil's worth out of this sunflower costume. "Why did you think I was dressed like this for a date?"

His mouth opened, then closed. Brows shooting up, then narrowing. After a full minute of frantic consideration, he finally came up with this oh-so-brilliant justification; "Because. It's just a little…suggestive."

Half of her wanted to kick him and the other wanted to burst out laughing. For the dress was by far the most skin covering-thing she owned, and he had often seen her in much more 'suggestive' states of dress in the past, both formal and informal, but had chosen to avoid commenting on all those such occasions.

She debated asking him what exactly he thought she was 'suggesting' with a knee-length cut, flat shoes, her mother's pearl earring and actual ribbons in her hair. Just to see how he would react. But that would have been considered crossing the _boundary_; that thin, invisible little divider between them that kept their relationship civil and respectful. At least until she fully trusted him again. At least until this adoption nightmare was over. She couldn't afford a scandal now, or to scare him away and upset the balance of the household.

Besides, on second thought, the neckline _was_ a little bit low she guessed. Not enough the reveal her scar, but enough to warrant his critique.

"I…I'll get a cardigan and stockings. Will it be okay then, you think? Proper enough?"

The mako-blue eyes returned to her face from wherever they had wandered during the silence. His expression seemed almost vaguely sad at the suggestion, as if the very idea of changing anything would be heartbreaking.

But he nodded his approval anyway, summarizing his opinion in one, simple word.

"Perfect."

_Perfect_…

"**I'm finished! I'm finished! I'm finished**!"

Marlene burst through the kitchen door with the delicacy of an intoxicated, angry bull, her notebook waving proudly in the air before presenting it to Tifa. "Two-hundred and twenty-three (I went over) words on the coal mines of North Corel! Can we watch the Princess Amelia movie now? Please, please PLEASE?! It's been so long…"

"I dunnooo…" Tifa muttered will checking over her work, proudly noting that the cursive was much more uniform and almost completely legible. "You still haven't touched Mathematics yet today."

"But it'll be too noisy for a movie once the bar opens! I'll do Math then!"

"If it's too noisy for a movie, it'll be too noisy for homework."

"Nu-uh! Math is easy! I could do it like…while getting a ride on Cloud's great-granpa the chocobo!"

This was a new running gag between them at the man's expense, and they both fell into burst of sniggers while sending him apologetic glances toward the table.

Cloud feigned offense, arms slowly rising to cross his chest as he slunk further into the chair. "And here I was about to not only set up the movie for you, but make pop corn as well. But I guess the descendent of a chocobo would be too clumsy, huh?"

"No Cloud, no!" Tifa's hands were instantly dropped as she ran over and threw herself onto his lap, arms wrapped desperately around his neck. "I promise. I'll NEVER say your great granpa's a chocobo again! Just let me watch Princess Amelia! Tifa looks just like her you know?"

If he had had any plans of keeping up the charade of being snubbed, he dropped them the moment he heard this rather interesting tidbit of information. "Really?"

Tifa rolled her eyes. "Pft. Yeah. Maybe after major, unnatural surgery. Or if you've had about ten shots of tequila."

"Tequila?" Marlene repeated, her nose scrunched up in disgust. "Does that really make you look more like a princess?"

"No. Not at all. Ignore her," Cloud insisted in his commanding voice while standing up and bringing Marlene with him toward the living space in the hopes of a distraction. But not before shooting Tifa a look over his shoulder that seemed to sarcastically say _'Thanks. I always hoped the girl would become an alcoholic before puberty.'_

Tifa could only shrug and shoot him one back that assured, at the very least, she would be extra careful to lock the cabinets when she closed up from now on.

* * *

They never did get to finish the movie. The groceries needed to completely put away, the dishes done, the meal prepared and then, of course, the Saturday night unending slew of customers. But as a special treat considering it was the family day off tomorrow, thanks to Cloud's gentle coaxing and Marlene's loud begging, Tifa resigned herself to the idea that they could finish the last forty-five minutes of the film after closing. As long as everyone helped out with the clean up.

The pop corn was just finishing being popped when Denzel finally came downstairs, lured by the smell of butter and the sound of laughter as Cloud tried to catch kernels Marlene threw at him with his mouth. No questions asked, Tifa followed Cloud's lead of instantly absorbing him into the chaos of their mini-party by asking him to test her popcorn mouth-catching abilities as a challenger.

Tifa and Denzel won by a landslide, granting him the esteemed privilege of choosing the next morning's activity. But for now, for tonight, Princess Amelia was waiting to be kissed out of her two-year slumber.

It was lucky that they were starting the movie from the middle, for as much as Denzel complained about being forced to watch a 'girly' film, he quickly became entranced by the swordplay and epic dragon battle. If only because he liked to point out all the things the prince was doing _wrong._

Heroes aren't supposed to be so unprepared.

By the second-to-last scene, both kids were fast asleep. Marlene in Tifa's lap from the left, clutching the now butter-stained silk, and Denzel against Cloud's right shoulder.

"Now watch this, how _cheesy_ is this line?" she muttered to him through a mouth full of popcorn. "_'You are my __**soul mate**__, my __**sweetheart**__, you are __**my dream come true**__, from now until the end of time I give my heart and soul to you.'_ I mean, they just met for goodness' sake! What's with all the hoopla? Why not keep it simple? If a guy proposed to me like that, so randomly, I'd laugh him out of town. And no one in their right mind would blame me."

"I dunno…" Cloud interjected, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "There's a reason this keeps coming up in movies. Its…romantic. Isn't it?"

As hilarious as the notion of Cloud defending the motives of an animated prince was, for some reason Tifa felt strongly about making her point heard. Especially as the Princess Amelia was now riding away into the sunset on the back of a horse with a man she didn't even know the name of. "I guess. If your definition of romance is a complete and utter lack of common sense."

"You know they say that the very essence of romance is uncertainty."

"Who says that Cloud? Who are _they_?"

"Just watch the movie Tifa."

The music burst out triumphantly, the happy couple was floating down the stairs of a church, Princess Amelia in her same empire-waist, knee-length sundress that was now made white and accentuated by glitter– telling of the laziness of the animators. They shared a passionate kiss when they make it to the bottom and the crowd cheers and rice is thrown and animal friends that had helped her on her journey are on the sidelines waving in regal garments.

Cheesy? Yes, it was undoubtedly so. But also, in a completely unfeasible way of course, incredibly alluring.

"The beginnings of a true family."

The words escaped her lips before she properly process them. Luckily, they were mumbled in a low enough tone that she could pretend he didn't hear it. And knowing Cloud, he was more than likely to gratefully assume that nothing had been said. At least, the person he had been three months ago would have pretended.

The present day Cloud had turned his head from the screen and was now fixing her with a stare. A stare she tried her best to ignore by staying focused on the TV. But then, out of her peripheral vision, she saw his hand reach forward. There was barely any time to acknowledge the movement before she began to feel it instead; leather-covered digits softly stroking some loose tendrils of hair behind her ear.

A touch so soft and innocent but still, somehow, exhilarating. And undeniably way, way past the unspoken restrictions of their 'boundary'. Not that she cared in that moment. Not really. Not with the Princess' instrumental love-song playing in the background as the credits rolled. Not even with the kids resting so peacefully near them. If he tried, if he leaned in just then…

"Popcorn."

Tifa blinked, her inexplicably half-closed eyes suddenly struggling the focus in the dim light.

His hand, the one that had seconds ago been touching her so tenderly, was now retracted. And pinched between his fingers was one single kernel of popcorn. Obviously having been retrieved from the rat's nest that had been her elegant, motherly hair-do.

"Th-thank you." She mumbled, eagerly snatching the snack from him and popping it into her mouth, as if hoping to absorb the moment.

The movie was over, the kids asleep, so there was nothing more to do but bring them upstairs and get some rest themselves. They said goodnight in the hallway as they always had and then headed to their respective rooms. But still, for their own distinct, personal reasons, neither of them got any sleep that night.

By two am, Cloud couldn't take it anymore. He was at his desk, phone in hand and completely oblivious of the consequences as he dialed the familiar number.

"Barrett," he greeted, ignoring the stream of threats and curses about the hour. "I need…your advice…"

* * *

**Author's Note:** A fast update for my awesome reviewers. Also, I'm horribly ill and have nothing better to do than write! Yayyyyyy for all nighters of fanfiction!

**Author's Ramble: **I do love when people challenge me about how I write my characters. Replying to reviews is half the fun of getting them. So please, if you have some concerns, SIGN your reviews or leave an email!

That being said, I wanted to clear up some problems people had with Tifa's little speech last chapter. Though yes, that one was written fast and not with the usual deliberation I put into their voices, still…it annoys me when people expect her to be so perfect. And comments like "Tifa would never say that! She loves him!" are met by me with a "Has a guy ever disappeared, leaving you with two children? Get back to me when that happens." Not to mention, she has already been known to chew Cloud out so it's not exactly BEYOND her capabilities. As the story writer Nojima once said: _"Although there's a lot to Tifa's character, she's actually very much like any other woman who's been left behind by a man."_

This quote was an import source of inspiration for me.

Seeing as such, as much as she cares for Cloud, it would be ridiculous for her to jump into his arms after the end of ACC I think. Taking him back into the house and continuing their routine was proof enough of how compassionate she is. But only an idiot would let such a guy instantly have any sort of non-replaceable role. They both have their issues and this story is not about how they **shed** their many discrepancies, but how they learn to appreciate and work with them. If FF7 teaches us anything, it's that life is messy. You have to let nature take its course, aided along but not overwhelmed by the bridges you build.

So yes, I did purposefully make Tifa untrusting and unsure. That's not because her character is that way (we all know how nurturing she is), but because she was burned so badly by him in the past. And she feels she needs to be careful, especially now that it's not only her heart, but the children's' that are at risk. It's an automatic defense mechanism that will take time to resolve itself.

Regardless of the family/trust problems of Tifa, the primary romantic barricade is Cloud himself. Upon every edit I try to simplify his lines, cutting them down to the basics so that we as readers can be as frustrated as she is with how unreadable he is. That's his main problem, his messages and hints being way too cryptic to come through. I meant for his offer to co-apply for the adoption to sound more like a business deal, which of course irked Tifa since he was taking it a little too heedlessly. She figured he thought he warranted the title of father merely because he helped pay for things.

This, of course, starts to change…as seen in this chapter. Cloud gets less cryptic (and surprisingly blunt as we see from chapter one) and Tifa is gradually letting him have his job of full, dependent father back.

Hoped that helped clear things up. Will eventually re-do chapter III but too lazy now. Till next one!


	5. Tipping Point

_"It's the levels at which the momentum for change becomes unstoppable." _

-- Malcolm Gladwell

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter V:_ Tipping Point_

_Yesterday_

7th Heaven, for the first time in its brief history, was completely and utterly spotless.

Not only _clean_ spotless, but structurally spotless as well. All the closets had been cleared of junk. The chaos of the garage had been arranged onto shelves or hooks or in these handy stackable boxes one of the new hardware stores sold. They had even made a family day project of refurbishing Cloud's office, painting the walls a pale blue and crafting a large desk unit for his books and delivery related materials.

The customers as well hadn't been able to resist commenting about the small yet striking changes made to the public space. Every day there was something new or enhanced. One time, the dreary photographs on the walls were suddenly colorful and the walls a pristine off-white. On another day, the stools, chairs and booths were upholstered with a soft, dark blue fabric and matching curtains were pulled back from the windows. The rusted metal door was replaced with a gleaming, dark wood and glass one. Even the bar top itself all of a sudden became a thick and sparkling slab of granite.

Though this certainly must have drained the small family's savings (materials were still hard to come by) additional profits from the new customer base of youths and people wanting a full, cozy meal as opposed to one drink lessened the blow a little. And besides, Tifa was an expert bargain hunter and Cloud an experienced haggler. Every single gil spent had been stretch as far as it could go, and they picked up anything, _anything,_ that had a chance of convincing the adoption inspector of the bar's relative wholesomeness.

Ten minutes before the scheduled interview time, with one last spritz of lemon scented cleanser wiped off the already gleaming kitchen table, it was as good as it was gonna get.

"Everything that I could possibly do is done, and I'm still so nervous," Tifa admitted to him before handing over his paper bagged lunch. Cloud nodded in thanks before turning to store it into one of Fenrir's many hidden compartments.

"You'll do fine. The place looks great."

"Thanks to you!" Half the items used to makeover the bar would have been but a far off fantasy if he hadn't been so dedicated. When the misleadingly inexpensive fabric supplier wanted to charge her an obscene amount for shipping, Cloud had taken the day off required to drive to Fort Condor and picked it up himself. When she wanted new photography for the frames, he had taken a camera with him on all his deliveries and made frequent stops to capture any scenic shots he thought she'd find appealing. When it seemed like the job of painting the bar would have been just too immense a task, Cloud had somehow convinced about ten of Edge's orphans and their guardians to help out as a sort of unconventional play-date party. Denzel and Marlene got to interact with some of their future classmates and Tifa got to question other citizens about their forays into the adoption process.

In the end, it had all come together beautifully. And the bar was finally a place she no longer dreaded giving the inspector a tour of.

The downside of course was that as helpful as all these upgrades were for her business, the Strife Delivery Service was suffering because of it. His answering machine was nearly constantly full of disgruntled messages from clients. Things weren't being picked up on time, perishables arrived spoiled and, basically, everyone was disappointed in the extreme decline of service standards.

But it was okay. Cause from today onward he would be back on the top of his game. Today, the insanity stopped.

"What time do you think you'll be home?" she asked, watching appreciatively as he bent over to inspect a suspicious looking rut in the back tire.

"Before supper I hope."

"Hmmm. Really?" Words continued to lazily spill past her lips even though she wasn't really paying attention. Those new cargo pants she had bought him really did fit well. A little too well. "I thought Tuesdays you went to Mideel? That's always been at least eleven hours there and back."

"That client dropped me."

At this, Tifa blinked. Her eyes travelling back up to his head and fixing them there.

She had had no idea.

Her heart began hammering madly in her ears, her mouth wordlessly opening and closing as she considered what she could possibly say to fix this. _I'm sorry_ wasn't good enough and _I'll make it up to you_ just wasn't going to be legitimately possible. The Mideel client had been his biggest.

"Don't worry about it," he insisted, sensing her guilt. Having deemed the rut ignorable for now, he moved to retrieve his goggles from the peg by the door. "I hated that job. It was too long a drive through too thickly infested plains only to have the guy yell at me no matter how quickly I got there. I was planning to quit anyway once my contract was up in a few weeks."

"But-"

"But nothing. Tifa," he positioned himself directly in front of her, knees bent so that they could be at eye level. Intense blue-green boring into demure red-brown. "I'm not taking any more jobs that keep me away for more than eight hours. I don't want to and we don't need to. If we need more gil, we'll continue work on the bar. With Marlene and Denzel starting school soon, we can expand the menu too. Or I'll take that job at the WRO."

"No. No way." Tifa animatedly shook her head. No matter how desperate they got, she'd never let him take a semi-desk job knowing how much he'd despise it.

"It's nine to five, it has benefits and it keeps me in the city. It's just work and it's an option."

"A worst, worst, WORST case scenario option, right? Like, if I broke all my fingers and couldn't mix drinks and nobody in the world needed anything delivered ever again and the kids both needed crazy amounts of expensive dental enhancements?"

Cloud's lips pressed together in a thin, teasing line and she knew to drop the subject before it got any more ridiculous. Besides, it wouldn't get to that point. They may not be the richest family in Edge, but they were better off than most. And with the general standards of living slowly creeping up thanks to the WRO's tax spending, she thought it safe to assume that things would be getting better for them even if they did cut their shared hours a bit.

Also, as shameful as it was to admit it, the idea of Cloud having a fixed, daytime schedule was tempting indeed. For it would evaporate a large chunk of those few grievances she had regarding their current setup together. No more prepared dinner plates to be left in the refrigerator. No more having to watch the children's smiles light up then falter every time the sound of a motorcycle engine revved on past. No more lying awake and reluctantly tense until she confirmed his footsteps in the hall followed by the click of his bedroom door closing.

Having him there to tuck in the children. Having him there to help close up the bar. Having there, always, to say goodnight.

Tempting indeed.

A small grin began to make its way onto her lips as they stared at one another, one which Cloud couldn't help but mirror.

Things were coming together. Finally.

Just this last piece.

They had to get this last piece…

"You better get the kids ready," he reminded her, his eyes glancing at the wall clock above her head before straightening up to his full height. "She'll be here any minute."

"Yes. Right. They should be dressed by now." Quickly, in a failed attempt to hide her blush, Tifa spun and headed for the garage door exit, hoping to get a few moments alone to calm down before facing the inspector. Her mind had suddenly become a very dangerous place to be lingering with him around and she was desperate for a diversion.

"Wait a sec," he called, causing her to stop-short after barely passing the threshold. "I forgot. I have something for you."

Not yet daring to turn around, she listened with growing apprehension to the mechanical whir of one of the compartments being opened on Fenrir. All too soon he was stepping up behind her and she was forced to slowly face him, keeping her head low for modesty's sake.

"Here."

In his hand, one of the few parts of him she could see, was one single, perfect, pale-yellow lily. Conveniently the exact same shade of the silk dress she now wore for the occasion.

For several tense seconds, she could do nothing more than stare at it, her mind having mysteriously melted into some sort of warm sludge. An effect that was, though pleasurable, also completely paralyzing.

"For luck," he murmured in hasty explanation, his tone betraying his own embarrassment as he lifted the deadweight of her hand and curled her fingers around the flower's stem. "And...in case you forget."

Many people could have read many different things in that simple message. The flower could have served as a token of how nurturing she was; the sunlight that allowed things and people to blossom in her presence. It could have been a symbol of their ethereal guardians, Aerith and Zack, ensuring that everything would turn out alright in the end.

But, most likely she fathomed, it was reminder that no matter what, even if things today went horribly, horrendously wrong…she would always, _always_, have him.

For what was a delicate little flower to do without those telltale formations in the sky to give it rain, sustenance and life?

_Cloud..._

It would wither and die of course.

"...Don't go," she heard herself whisper, eyes still glued to the gift.

Cloud stiffened.

"What?"

"Don't go!" The cry was more loud and resolute this time, her pathetically shiny and wide eyes finally lifting to meet his. "I can't-I can't do this alone. Please."

"Tifa…"

Somewhere deep within the house, the doorbell rang, causing both of their breath to get stuck in their throats.

He considered her for the few seconds they had to make a decision. With the ribbons in her hair, the flowing dress and those big, watery brown eyes, she really did look like a frightened little girl, clutching the flower to her chest as tightly as if it were life preserver. He knew instantly that there wasn't any other alternative.

Regardless of the customers he would lose, regardless of the fact that he was the one family member dressed like a grease stained hobo, he re-hooked his goggles back on their peg before sidestepping Tifa and entering the house.

Before turning to join him, she reached up and tucked the flower into the side of her hair. She had a feeling she was going to need all the luck she could get.

--

Their inspector's name was Shelinda Sharpe and from the moment they opened the door, both Tifa and Cloud knew they were in for an _interesting_ experience.

She was the kind of woman that automatically made you uncomfortable, peering at you from over horn rimmed spectacles, her mouth, smeared with dark lipstick, set in an unwavering scowl.

Tifa tried to be hospitable. Offering beverages, attempting to coax out some polite chit-chat, but the woman seemed more interested in surveying the structural integrity of the bar floors than actually having to talk outside the standard list of questions. When she went upstairs to see the children in their room, the first thing she did was run her finger along the bookshelves, checking her white glove for dust residue before scribbling something down on her clipboard.

And the children had _tried_ to convince her that such a thorough cleaning was pointless. Ha! At least they were sure to pass the sanitation portion of the screening process. If only that section…

Shelinda then asked the adults to wait out in the hall while she interrogated the kids. Her voice was a nearly robotic monotone that asked preposterous, though they guessed necessary, personal questions (as Marlene later informed them) that had nothing to do with their general health and happiness. Just if they had ever been touched by either of the grown-ups in a way that made them uncomfortable? Or did the obviously mako-enhanced male ever get violent, even if it was just with a pillow or the wall (Denzel cleverly restrained himself from boasting about how cool Cloud's sword fighting skills were)?

Afterwards, she sat with them in silence for a whole five minutes longer, reminding them that it was their last chance for the truth over and over. Besides becoming increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny, they remained quiet. Up until Marlene, who had long since become bored, offered to let the woman play with her dolls. On that note, she exited.

Finally, it was her turn. And as Shelinda fixed her with those cold black eyes from across the table, Tifa was eternally grateful that Cloud had chosen to stay by her side. His little finger, hidden in the shadows of the booth, positioned itself to just barely overlap hers that were clenched into the cushioning. It was all the reassurance she needed.

"Do you own this establishment?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"A little over two years."

"And in that time, what is your average annual income?"

"Around 40,000. But increasing as of late. We also trade items for service here, so the income alone isn't really a proper-"

"Not relevant. How long have these children been in your care?"

"Um. Marlene was originally taken in by a friend, Barrett. Since she was one."

"I didn't ask about your friend. I asked about you. How long have YOU been taking care of them?"

"Oh! Umm…I-I've been watching her for about three years. Denzel for a year and a half."

"Do you frequently drink, smoke or consume any sort of recreational narcotic?"

"What? No. Never!"Cloud cleared his throat and gave her hand a small tap. Reminding her that it was always better to be honest than caught in a lie. Especially since Shelinda was already eyeing the long row of liquor bottles behind the bar. "Well, the occasional glass of wine or aperitif. But I don't think that can be categorized as 'frequen-"

"Do you now or have you ever had a criminal record?"

Tifa winced. She had both expecting and completely avoiding the possibility of this question. She glanced at Cloud for support, but he could only give a twitch of his lips.

"I was arrested by Shinra forces two years ago," she admitted with a staggering sigh. "More than once. But not for anything nefarious or silly. I was part of AVALACHE and the rebellion to stop them from stealing from the planet. I was helping Reeve, the now Commissioner of the WRO."

If this shocked Shelinda, she made no outward show of it. Just kept scribbling on her clipboard like she had with every other question she had asked, her lips forever fixed in that same indecipherable scowl.

"Do note that we will have your medical records seized as well. Now is the time to tell me of any unappealing facts I may find in there."

At this, Tifa really did freeze-up. She suddenly remembered one of the main reasons why she had chosen to leave Cloud out of this process. To avoid awkwardness. To avoid anything having to change in their comfortable, safe relationship.

She debated leaving it at that. Letting Shelinda find out on her own, and insisting to herself that such a stupid detail wouldn't cost her the kids. It wasn't like she was pretending to **not** having a fatal and/or contagious disease or anything. But then she felt Cloud tap her fingers again. This time as just an incentive to speak but reminding her that he had always been an advocate of the truth. And besides, she figured he deserved to know and that it wasn't everyday such a subject came up in conversation.

She took a deep, deliberate breath.

"At sixteen, I fell down some stairs. You'll find the details in my file at the Rocket Town clinic where I was brought." There was no point in elaborating the scene itself. Cloud knew exactly what she was talking about. "I had twelve broken bones and heavy internal bleeding. After surgery they told me that there had been some…damage. I would probably be unable to conceive in the future."

Everything, even the sound of the pen scratching on paper, stopped then, enveloping the room in a tense, heavy silence. Cloud's finger, still resting across her knuckles, suddenly felt that much heavier.

"Interesting…"

It was the first comment Shelinda had made regarding any of her answers. Tifa figured that there was probably some well-known psychological reasoning that made women like her want to adopt and she was suddenly "figured-out" in the eyes of the inspector.

Whatever. At sixteen, the consequence to taking on Sephiroth hadn't been so much traumatic as it had been relieving. Revenge, not children, had been her only desire, her goal in life. But that was a long time ago…

"Anything else?" Tifa prompted when the woman's silence had gone on just a little longer than what was deemed comfortable.

Shelinda swiftly clicked her pen closed, signally the end of the interview on that rather awkward note. She was halfway out of her seat when Cloud's hand shot out from under the table to grasp her bicep. It was the first direct interaction he had had with her this entire time and Tifa nearly felt her heart stop, thinking he may have ruined their chances.

"That's it?" he asked in a voice that was unexpectedly passionate. "No…hint of the results?"

The inspector grinned while delicately picking the restraining fingers away from her.

"Relax," she prompted, surprisingly impervious to the attack. Cloud instantly fell back in his seat, embarrassed by his reaction. "This is the thirty-eighth home I've visited this month and it is by far the most qualified."

"Qualified?" Tifa's eyebrows shot upwards, daring to hope.

"Yes. Qualified. You'd be amazed by how many applicants had obvious addictions, or fetishes or disreputable businesses going on below the surface." Her eyes scanned the floor of the bar one final time. As if looking for a secret dungeon hatchway. Tifa didn't want to know how many homes she had visited that actually had secret dungeon hatchways.

"So…I'm accepted? That's it? I can add Marlene and Denzel to my census information as my children?"

Shelinda smiled. It was both a reassuring and unsettling expression on her. "It's not fully my decision in the end, but I'd say you're a shoe-in. If only by comparison."

Veiled with an insult or not, Tifa felt her heart soaring to the sky. It had worked. All their hard work had paid off! The final piece was falling into place…

Her very first instinct was to throw herself into Cloud's arms and squeeze until he had to beg for breath. But not now. Later. The second the door closed behind the terse yet now considered saintly woman. Tifa could hardly wait to tell the kids and begin celebrating. Maybe with a trip to the ice cream stand. Maybe with a meal of only their favorites. Maybe, with him, later, by opening that rare bottle of wine she kept in the back of the pantry and skirting their usual duties in exchange for a film, or some music or just casual conversation. All options that were equally tempting and that she could hardly wait to put into action.

"That's all then?" In the martial artists' glimmering eyes, Shelinda couldn't get out of there fast enough. "We'll get official notice in the mail, I know. So thanks! I'm sure you have many other places to visit today, right?"

"Yes. Yes. I just need your confirmations." The pen was clicked into action once more as the inspector stood and flipped through her clipboard documents. "Now Mr. and Mrs. Lofthart, if you could just sign here…"

"Oh no," Tifa laughed, moving to stand as well. "We're not-" she was going to say _married_ but then another issue occurred to her, stopping her short.

"Lockhart," she corrected, straining to get a look at the documents in her hands. "I'm Tifa_** Lockhart**_. L-O-C-K…"

"_Tifa_?" she repeated with a cringe, as if she had never heard the name before. Then her mouth began to form a small o of surprise. "Oh dear."

Never had such terrifying words ever been spoken.

"What? What's wrong?"

Shelinda shuffled through her many papers, comparing data between them as Tifa and Cloud shared an anxious glance. Finally, she let out a careless sigh.

"That would explain a lot. I thought this place was a little strange looking for an apparent doctor's office. And your income rather low."

"Ms. Sharpe…" Tifa pressed through tight lips, fists clenching at her sides. "Could you please get to the point?"

"Yes. Well there's obviously been some kind of mix up. Probably some silly intern working on two files at once typed it in wrong." She chuckled a little, as if relieved for some reason. "Marlene and Denzel's information had been filed under a couple named _'Lofthart'_. Married six years and highly esteemed benefactors of the WRO."

"What!?" both the ex-AVALANCHE members barked in unison.

Shelinda merely waved their cares away. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure they'll give priority to re-arranging things since the Loftharts are such important patrons. You'll just have to re-submit the application. I'll have a new copy mailed to you by tomorrow."

"But-but it took months to get this appointment!" Tifa reminded the woman, her tone bordering on frantic. "And the census is due! They're going to start enforcing the custody law before anyone even looks at the papers!"

"I'll red tag it for you. But the children just may have to spend a weeks at the orphanage until you get approved. _If _you get approved." She scanned Tifa up and down, her expression suddenly laced with obvious distaste. "I take this to be a bar, correct?"

"…yes."

"And you applied as a single parent?"

Tifa held her chin up high. "Yes."

"Then who are you?" Shelinda turned her attention to Cloud. "The three drink minimum?"

Cloud instantly had his hands pressed onto her Tifa's shoulders from behind, forcing her still as her knees reflexively bent, preparing for a roundhouse kick to the jaw. As unprofessional as she was being, nothing good could come out of attacking a WRO representative. Besides, he fully intended to take it up with her supervisor later.

"This was your screw up," he reminded the woman, having every appearance of being calm and collected. All except for the menacing glow in his dark blue eyes. "Seeing as such, Tifa should at least be granted an extension. The same courtesy you're sure to extend to the Loftharts."

"The best I can do is tag it for priority sequencing. Honestly. Everything else is the committee's job." Something in her tone seemed to state that it was in fact far from the _best_ she could do, but merely the easiest. "I just make sure there's been no abuse and the homes aren't dens of woe. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to."

The pen was clicked closed and the clipboard officially returned to her oversized purse. Beneath his hands, he could feel Tifa begin to tremble as they watched her walk away. Whether out of anger or sorrow or defeat, he didn't know.

That couldn't be the end of it. It simply couldn't…

"Surely there's _some way_ we can-"

But she was already gone, the only response being the slamming of their gleaming, new front door.

As if the sound were a trigger, Tifa became limp beneath his fingers and fell to the floor. Unlike most women in her position, she didn't cry, didn't scream, didn't do anything.

Just sat there in the middle of the bar, her yellow dress fanned around her elegantly, though still stained in certain places from popcorn buttered fingers, with her hands clasped together. As if she were praying for a sign, a miracle.

"Tifa?"

Cloud's eyes shifted toward the staircase, where two sets of anxious eyes peered at them from around the bend. Obviously having been spying on the scene.

He gestured with a nod of his head that it was okay to come forth and they did so at a sprint, instantly diving towards her with arms and hearts wide open. Denzel on his knees pressing against her back with his arms around her neck and Marlene in her lap, hands on her waist.

"It's okay Tifa," stuttered the boy, his voice broken and low. "We know you tried your hardest."

"Y-Yeah," added the little girl, already blatantly crying. "No-no matter where I go…You're my mom. A-always."

Slowly, shakily, her arms began to rise. One hand cautiously squeezing the smaller ones on her collarbone and the other stroking the head of long, glossy hair settled on her thigh.

She didn't say anything. She didn't dare to risk it. For there were no possible comforting words to give. And she didn't have the strength or the will to pretend otherwise.

Luckily, _she_ didn't need to.

"Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry."

Three pairs of teary eyes shot up to regard Cloud, having just put up the 'CLOSED' sign in the window, and who now had his phone in his hand, dialing.

"We'll all help fill in the application. I'll get the gang over to write character references. We'll get a petition going to ensure that this doesn't happen to anyone again. I'll deliver both _in person_ to the WRO and make sure it gets processed immediately and under my supervision. If Reeve doesn't want a full mutiny on his hands, he'll back this up. These mistakes are _his_ responsibility."

He brought the phone up to his ears just as an obscenely loud "HEY CLOUDDDD!!" burst through the speaker, echoing throughout the entire bar, causing them all to wince.

"Yuffie. Can you come into the bar by tomorrow evening? We need you for something."

"OHHH. "_SOMETHING_" EH? SOMETHING INOLVING OUR LITTLE SHOPPING TRIP?" Tifa could hear the teasing in her voice and her curiosity was instantly piqued. Since when had Cloud and Yuffie gone _shopping _together? "SOME…SPECIAL EVENT PERHAPS? I DIDN'T THINK YOU HAD THE-"

"Just…get here." He snapped the phone shut and tossed it to Tifa. She fumbled with the catch, her hands still shaky but at least no longer immobile. "You call the others, I'll start the petition."

With his expression set to determination, he marched to the stairway, pausing once to look back at her prostrate form settled on the floor - yellow lily still in her hair, the kids still latched on, as if for dear life.

"I won't let them break us," he assured all three before disappearing into his office.

Neither Tifa, nor Marlene, nor Denzel, despite the rather egregious odds, doubted him one bit.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Updates are fun. Review please! Feel free to ask questions as I do reply/would like to know if people have things to critique. Thank you all.


	6. Opportunity Cost

_"It's the actual value of the forgone alternative, because by definition that opportunity lost is 'the road not taken' -- the alternative passed up in favor of the preferred option."_

**-- Microeconomics 201 **(personal notes)

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter VI:_ Opportunity Cost_

_Today_

The last dish had long since been cleaned away.

The last of the crowd had long since, awkwardly, slunk out the door.

Even Yuffie, who was known for her egregious lack of tact, had chosen this night of all nights to give them their space. Taking it upon herself to make sure the children properly prepared for bed and wouldn't dare to leave their room, before quietly letting herself out.

All too soon, they were alone again. Alone as they had been hundreds of nights before and yet never like this. Never had she thought _she_ would be the one hiding, unable or unwilling to face _his_ disappointed expression.

If this had been one of those normal, quiet nights, after they'd checked on the kids, they would head down to the bar for a nightcap. Either warm milk or a tiny thimble full of whiskey, depending on the stress levels of their days.

He'd help her finish any lingering dishes and count the cash, and then she'd help him sort through his messages and plan his routes. It was a silly tradition that she looked forward to every night, except the fewer and fewer days he had far off deliveries, ever since his geostigma had been cured. Every night since the night he had promised all three of them that he wouldn't leave again. That he had no desire to even think about leaving them.

It had been nearly six months since then. Half a year of board games and cartoons and sticky fingers that so didn't compliment dark leather and brooding. A whole six months and yet only a few weeks since she had started to actually believe it. Only a few days even since her breath, for the first time, hadn't caught in her throat when she saw his empty bed or boots missing from the doorway.

It had been a simultaneously euphoric and petrifying feeling to finally know, with almost absolute certainty, that they were in this together. That, maybe, they would be under the same roof for the rest of their lives.

Maybe.

_Maybe_…

As if a ring, a beautiful, brilliant, diamond ring, would ever turn that maybe into a conviction.

Tifa sighed loudly, forgetting for a moment that his enhanced hearing would surely pick the sound up through the walls and coax him to react. It wasn't until a few seconds later, when the air around her became abruptly warmer, thicker, that she realized what she had done.

As silently as the wind that breathed through the open window, he was suddenly there. Behind her. Smelling, as always, of leather and lighting. Close, but not too close. Never too close. Even when formally asking her to be with him forever, he had kept a civil, respectful distance.

What a special marriage they would have made indeed.

"I know what you're trying to do," she whispered to the emptiness in front of her, annoyed that she hadn't the opportunity to better select her words, but relieved to no longer be perched on the precipice, merely waiting to plummet. "But it's not what you really want…is it?"

His initial reaction was nothing more than the rustle of fabric. An uncomfortable shrug? A passionate head shake? A rude hand gesture? She hadn't the confidence yet to turn and find out. Especially because of the light. At this time of day, twilight, his eyes would be especially bright, their unnatural glow obvious and eye-catching. It would be all too easy to get lost in their abyss.

"What I want…?" he repeated, still sounding as confused as he had those long minutes ago out in the bar. Pondering whether she was serious.

Was it possible that she didn't know? How could she not know?

Cloud audibly swallowed, frustratingly nervous to be talking to her about this out loud. It was meant to be easy. They had all assured him that it would be so easy. An instant-oatmeal happy ending.

Yeah right.

"I want you to stop expecting me to not come home one day," came his honest and straightforward answer after a few moments of anxious contemplating. "I want Marlene and Denzel to not feel awkward when a stranger refers to them as my kids. I want us to be a _real _family."

Tifa scoffed lightly. She hadn't meant to, not really. For his reasons were indeed heartwarmingly sincere. It was just his assumption that these issues could be resolved by _marriage_ that made her mind automatically flip the switch from apprehension to hilarity. Proof that he really knew nothing about women.

On the other side, Cloud couldn't blame her skepticism. For it was true that 'being a family' had once been more of a failed distraction than an actual ambition. Back when images of Aerith and Zack haunted him every minute, causing him to recoil from the very notion of having people depend on him, or him depend on people. Back when the stigma proved that Jenova would never be completely out of his system, and leaving them as a disappointment was easier than being revealed to them as a monster.

But he had changed. That last battle, what he hoped to be the last battle _ever_, had changed him. Not so much that he'd be winning "father-of-the-year" anytime soon (he still never remembered that Denzel hated onions, or that Marlene wouldn't sleep a wink unless he left the hallway light on), but he was learning. They were teaching him. And he felt he was close, so very tantalizingly close, to achieving perfect peace.

Having let go of his past, all that remained, all he felt he needed, was a solidified future. A feat she was presently denying despite her obvious desire for the same. Getting married, applying to adopt Marlene and Denzel as a couple would guarantee acceptance and jump start the type of relationship he knew they both wanted to investigate.

_This will make it perfect. Complete. Why are you fighting it? Are you afraid? Why are you making my same mistakes…?_

"You don't believe me. Still? After everything. All this time?" Even without facing him she could perceive his expression perfectly. Typical offended Cloud. Lips pressed together and pale eyebrows knitted. So very adorable when not the preceding a brutal attack.

It was decided then, instantly and resolutely, that she wouldn't allow this little episode to alter their bond; a friendship that was well on its way to becoming so profound that she would probably never stop fearing its absence. For there were many other grounds besides desertion that could lead to Cloud never coming back home. He could get hurt on the road. He could be kidnapped for further mako research. He could find a girl, a beautiful and delicate girl, who wore silk and pastels, not leather and grays, who could easily sweep him off his feet and make him forget that he ever considered marrying the damaged waitress from that dive bar. In such a case, she'd have to be the one to kick him out, forcing him to live life as it was meant to be.

He was still young, still almost unrealistically handsome, strong and certainly competent. It could happen. The kids were, technically, her responsibility and therefore no baggage to him. She had to be prepared for it happening. She had to…

Her very brain froze with a jolted shock as she saw the arms rise on either side of her. In a blink, too quick for even her enhanced reflexes to react, she was being pulled to him, her back flush against his upper body and her loose arms pinned to her chest from being tightly and desperately squeezed.

Six months he had been back. Six months of seeing each other every day and every night and the most he had ever instigated of physical affection was one, probably accidental, stroke of her hair while watching a movie. To say that she was shocked would have been putting it lightly. Not only due to the fact that such a gesture was rare and unexpected, but because of the alarming way her body reacted.

This wasn't the giddy blush that sometimes happened when their skin accidentally brushed. Nor was it the usual swell of contentment that came when she coaxed an exceptional smile from his lips. This was Cloud, all of him, his heart, his soul and, most notably, his body, pressed against her, surrounding her. Overwhelmed by the raw power of him. The mako-menthol scent of his skin, at this minute distance, overshadowing all other senses.

She had to remind herself to breathe.

The bare arms enclosing her were pure muscle, not too much, not too little, covered by a perfectly smooth layer of warm skin. When her knees reflexively buckled, those perfect arms kept her from falling, one of them lowering for a better grip across her stomach, the places where he made contact with bare skin tingling.

He was ruining it. This, this would officially ruin everything they had worked so hard for. A stable, caring household and flourishing businesses, dotted by a mild flirtation that kept things interesting but still within proper, silently agreed-upon boundaries. Boundaries that he was currently ripping apart.

And yet…she made no move to recoup. She couldn't. She wouldn't dare to. The heat of him, the restrained passion. It was too good.

"Tifa…" he whispered hoarsely in her ear, his lips brushing lightly over the back of her bare shoulder, causing her to tremble. "I…I'm not good at this."

Though still unsure of his exact intentions, Tifa had to disagree. Whether he was trying to chide her or scare her or excite her, he was succeeding masterfully at all three.

She felt the breath of his sigh flutter her hair before letting his forehead fall onto her shoulder, giving them both a sorely needed moment to sort out their many muddled thoughts made all the more confusing by this intimate position.

They stood like that for what felt like hours, but had probably been only a few seconds. They may have actually stood there all night if he hadn't moved that finger. One of the ones, as an accident of catching her of course, that had ended up two knuckles deep into the waistband of her shorts around the curve of her hip. Maybe it was in an attempt to draw back, or maybe he was testing his boundaries, but for some reason, Cloud began dragging the digit along that strip of exposed flesh. A touch that was wholly innocent and yet way too personal, bordering on a psychosomatic violation.

Her hand automatically flew up to catch his and stop, unable to simply wait to discover his intentions.

"Cloud?" his name initially came out as a squeaky rasp. He froze and caught his breath, as if more shocked than she of where his hand had "accidentally?" ended up while daydreaming. And yet he was making no effort to rectify the situation. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Cloud…what is this?"

A slow, deep breath as his head shimmied to bury itself more deeply in the crook of her neck. Though never done before, the pose felt so calming, so natural. Like he had been made to rest there. Then, after settling, he let out a disheartened chuckle. "I have no idea," he admitted, the fingers in her waistband slowly, almost hesitantly, curling into a fist on the more appropriate stomach area.

She was so pleasurably cool beneath his fingers, even through the leather. Her skin unexpectedly soft and firm. Like velvet steel; a marvel of nature that he had simply had to explore further upon that first sample. Why had he waited so long to try this, he now had no clue. Though her shivering proved his initial fear of his touch affecting her, it was in a way he hadn't dared to consider. In a way that was slowly bringing to life a long dormant part of himself. The fourteen-year-old, physically perfectly normal boy, watching through his window as the most popular girl in town practiced cartwheels in the center square. He remembered how he used to stare at her legs, riveted by their unnatural length and power and flexibility.

They were the type of legs that made a boy want to do anything for. Something stupid. Like join the army and try out for SOLDIER. The legs, he was suddenly acutely aware of, whose owner was presently in his arms, what felt like lifetimes later.

The memories brought to the forefront of his mind the _other _reason, of course, for his proposal. The one where her limbs and skin and hair were but a microscopic (but increasing growing) portion of it. A reason he wasn't sure of and therefore wouldn't dare to voice.

"All I know is;" he decided to continue his thoughts out loud, sensing her need for an answer. "I don't want to lose you. You…take care of me. I couldn't handle you leaving."

Tifa eyes narrowed dubiously. Was that what he was honestly afraid of? "You know I wouldn't do that. I would never do that to you guys."

"The kids no. But you have no reason to keep me. If you send in the papers now and they go through, you'll be their mother. You're bound together. What am I? Where do I fit it?"

"Is that what this is about?" the ridiculousness of his fears finally gave her enough confidence to spin in his arms and face him. Those glowing mako eyes, as expected in the twilight, making her feel unbalanced. "You wanted us to be married…so that we'd all have an official paper link at the WRO? Seriously?"

Cloud cringed at the insinuation. It was so much more than that…

"You make it sound so-"

"Absurd?" she interrupted, giggling. "Well that's cause it is."

"It would make everything easier," he defended hastily. Had she already forgotten of that terrible night a few weeks ago? The night the pamphlet came from the WRO. The night her palpable pain had forced him, for the first time, to seriously consider the incident that led them to this moment?

"That may be so. But Cloud…" she pushed against his chest to increase the distance between them, her chuckle lessening its exuberance as the situation became more pitiable than funny. "You don't marry someone because it makes things _easier_. You don't marry the first and only girl you find yourself merely comfortable with or...or, maybe," she almost choked on the next insinuation, finding it equally absurd and yet amusing "_attracted _to. Those things fade. Those things you can experience with a multitude of people. You marry some**one** because…"

She thought of Cid and Shera. She thought of her parents. She thought of all those couples she knew who had taken the plunge and what steps had led them there. None of which, in even the remotest sense, she and Cloud had experienced. Sure they had the jobs, the house and the kids. All the after and none of the before. By those terms, yes, marriage did make sense as the next obvious step. But it was also where she drew the line of letting the backwardness of their relationship continue.

"You marry someone because you can't live without them," the words came to her naturally, as if his stare was prompting the lines from her lips. "Because you believe there is no one else in the world you could ever love as much. Because you're so physically addicted to one another, even after having passed the test of time, that getting married and letting the world know that you have no desires except for one another is the _only_ possible thing left to do, making your life and your soul finally, _finally _complete!"

When she was finished, she was inexplicably out of breath, fists clenched desperately to the material of his sweater. Upon realizing this, she pushed him a little further back before releasing, finally fully breaking their embrace.

Cloud only blinked, slightly shocked and intimidated by the passion of her speech.

He had asked her to marry him and she had said no. At the time, it had seemed like the most heartless and silly thing she had ever done.

But now…

"Have dinner with me."

It was Tifa's turn to be dumbfounded this time, her eyebrows rising at the rather impromptu change of subject. "Um. Okay," her eyes wandered the kitchen, hands on her hips in an attempt to hide her flustered state. "I think we have some left over pot roast in the frid-"

"No… I mean," a hand raked nervously through his blonde spikes, trying to organize his thoughts. He had been hoping to skip this part. Not only did he feel way too old for such juvenile propositions, but also that they had known each other for much too long for it to have any sort of point. But better late than never, he supposed. "I mean dinner. Like, you and I, alone. Not…you know, here. Out."

"Are you…" she ducked to meet his lowered eyes, hoping that their clarity would help confirm the rather preposterous assumption of what he was trying to say. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

His gaze moved to the left, then to the floor, then to the right. Hands went through his hair one more time before finally gathering the courage to meet her incredulous stare. "I…think so."

He hoped he was at least. His experience is that area was less than null, so he had stolen a line from one of the old girlish movies he had watched with Marlene once. But there was no guarantee that the content of this _new_ offer of his had been proper for this day and age, especially considering their current, complicated situation.

Dinner out. People still did that, right?

"Yes you are." Tifa began nodding animatedly, a teasing smile gradually making its way to her lips. "You are most definitely asking me out Mr. Strife."

Gods. She had a gallingly uncanny talent of making him feel fourteen again. Pre-mako trauma, no longer a boy, not yet a man, a little unsteady, shy and, for some weird reason, constantly aware of her legs. They had become even longer since then, he just noticed.

Interesting…

"Interesting…" Tifa said aloud, most likely referring to his rehashed proposal as opposed to the realization of having physically changed over the years. In fact, as he was suddenly and acutely aware, _every_ feminine aspect of her had enhanced since then.

The fourteen-year-old boy in him couldn't help but audibly gulp. But the twenty-three-year-old man he was, thankfully, was too stressed waiting for an answer to give it any more thought.

"Soo…?" he prompted softly while lightly bouncing on his heels. Never had he felt so strained. And that was saying a lot.

Tifa took a step back, a single finger tapping against her lips as her dark eyes scanned him from head to toe. Weighing the pros and cons.

More so than a sham marriage with no chance of happening, _this_ decision would be one that would greatly affect their relationship and needed some careful consideration. The cons were obvious. Close as they were now, what if they didn't work out romantically? Would it ruin things? Would Denzel and Marlene, perceptive as they were, be affected? Would the businesses hold under the strain? Could their friendship, the very base of this entire household, crumble and leave all four of them disappointed and hollow?

On and on the list went, her smile waning with every new excuse as to why this would be a very, very bad idea. By the time her scan reached his neck, she had almost decided not to bother with the pros. It was simply not worth it, especially since she felt nearly completely satisfied as they were now. Friends, partners and, to her at least, a still perfect and unspoiled fantasy. Why risk that?

But then his lips came into view. Those perfect, pale and slightly chapped lips. And all of a sudden she was thirteen again, sitting under the stars at a water tower on a secret rendezvous. She remembered the thrill of knowing that if her father caught them, she would be grounded for life. She remembered staring at him, a boy she had known all her life and yet never really _seen_. Even then, before the mako enhancements, at twilight, his eyes still shone; a darker shade of blue than she had ever thought humanly possible. She remembered, for the first time, feeling weak in the knees. A feeling that had never been reanimated by any of the men in her life.

And then…a promise. It had been like a fairy tale. She a princess and he, a white…well…_blonde_ at least, knight in coming-soon shining armor.

The thirteen-year-old girl in her started to blush and wanted to scamper away giggling. But the twenty-two year old now knew, as she finished the examination up into those still too-blue eyes, that there was only one answer she could give.

In a few quick steps she crossed the room to the counter, leaving him with his heart stuck in his throat, thinking she had abandoned the idea. Shot down, yet again. Of course, that was far from the case. She stopped in front of the telephone she used to take orders for the bar and began scribbling on the notepad kept there for messages. When she was done, she ripped the page from the pad and strode over to him, lifting his hand and slapping the paper into it.

"Pick me up at seven? Friday?" she asked boldly. He could only nod. With nothing more than a brief, smug smile, she turned around and left the kitchen, assumedly heading for bed considering the late hour and tomorrow being the day she got up early to scour the market. An action he should have been following, but instead remained glued to the spot, frozen with his hand still in the air and her note resting on his gloved palm.

Only after he heard her bedroom door close from the floor above did he even consider reading it. Nervous hands unfolded the paper and brought it up to his face, prepared to consume every word with the utmost care.

There, casually scrawled in her neat writing, was a very simple message. Four lines that made the tension automatically release from his shoulder and a small, almost imperceptible grin to appear on his lips.

It was an address. One that was obviously made to mimic the many scribbled-on napkins he often found scattered around the bar from attempted courtships.

'_Tifa_

_777-2493_

_Across the hall_

_Six steps to the right'_

Still smiling, he delicately refolded the note and put it in his pocket before moving to head upstairs as well.

This second proposal of his, made without any sparkling trinket for incentive or friends' assertions for confidence, had been more nerve wracking than the original. Despite it's relatively lighter significance.

He couldn't explain it, but for some reason her acceptance had thrilled him more than he thought possible. More than when he defeated his arch enemy or saved the world, for this had been something he stood up to alone and passed the challenge. One that every other male from his home town had failed: he, the scrawny, weird and weak Cloud Strife, had a _date_ (a word that still seemed too casual) with Tifa Lockhart. The most beautiful and spirited and interesting girl in Nibelheim.

If only they could see him now. If only there were someone still around to tell him what to do now.

When he lay down in his bed that night, Cloud had to mull over the source of his good fortune as of late. It didn't take him long to boil it down to simple economics. Opportunity cost. When something was lost, something else is gained in exchange; a more a rational version of the _'one door closes, another one opens' _theory.

At one point or another he had lost family, friends, his sanity, his faith and, earlier tonight, his pride when she had denied him in public. But in exchange, after everything he had suffered…he got Tifa. At least, a chance with Tifa.

That night, with the memory of her skin still on his fingertips, he considered it to be a more than fair compensation.

As his eyelids gradually grew heavier, he kept his gaze firmly glued to doorway. Knowing, with a strange sort of reverence, that she was there on the other side. So close and yet so far. Across the hall, six steps to the right and an eternity beyond.

Friday was only three days away.

He could hardly wait.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yay fluff! Sorry for lack of updates. Slow review week.

On another note, I was shocked and amused by how many people were still asking "I don't get it! Why did she say no?" after the last chapter. As sweet as Cloud was being as of late, the proposal was in fact the first and ONLY sign he had ever given that he was interested in being more than friends. Kinda skipped a few steps there and, let's face it, as great as couples may seem on paper, sometimes it just doesn't work out in practice sadly. Tifa, as always, is just being careful. More for his sake than hers.

I'm greatly looking forward to writing the next few chapters, for the whole point of this story is to play with awkward Cloud, pushing him through those painful/exciting ages of 16-21 that he was forced to skip. For as difficult as that time is for all of us, it is essential to discovering who we are and what we want in life. You just have to _wait_ for it :P.

Til next time. Thanks for reading.


	7. Good on Paper

"_There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting."_

**-- Buddhist Philosophy**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter VII:_ Good on Paper_

It was just another day at 7th Heaven.

Tifa's alarm buzzed into life promptly at 4:30 am, as it had on every Wednesday for nearly two years now. Annoyed as always at the interruption to her precious sleep, she groped for the off button and staggered into her routine. Shower, clothing, and making sure the coffee was prepped to brew all before heading off on her weekly pilgrimage to the station for first pick of the fresh produce deliveries. The same squeaky wheeled cart dragged behind her. The same long, black shawl that she always wore on chilly mornings, draped over her shoulders. Her greeting to the various farmers and fishermen unloading their crates was, as always, a friendly smile and compliments on quality, hoping to score a good deal through equal parts promptness, loyalty and charm.

It was the same as every other market day. For nothing, really, had changed.

Well...it was, perhaps, a _little_ strange how all the vendors she had grown friendly with over the years kept commenting on how _bright_ she looked that specific day. Even though none of them could exactly explain what they meant by such a word.

Maybe, it was a _tad _odd that she nearly tripled her usual quantity of plums, with the excuse that the batch seemed particularly plump and perfect for pickling. Even though both she and that specific merchant knew very well that there was only one member of the household with a fondness for said fruit.

Despite how easy it was to brush off those variations to her usually strict demeanor as coincidental, there was absolutely no other excuse for her reaction the moment 7th Heaven's door came back into her line of sight. Alone in the street, at sunrise, with her overloaded cart struggling to remain upright on its uneven wheels, Tifa froze.

_Last night..._

_ I said no...Everyone heard..._

She slapped a hand to her forehead, wincing at the onslaught of memories. Memories she had successfully forced to the back of her mind up until now, if only in order to function properly. For today was Wednesday. Further proof that Cloud did indeed have the worst sense of timing.

It was on this day of the week, since his return, that the family had always make a point of getting up early to help her unload and set up for an extended breakfast. On this day, if there were no pressing deliveries to be made, he would be waiting at the bar with two steaming cups of coffee poured for immediate consumption. On Wednesdays especially, as she spent the morning arranging the week's menu, there was absolutely no way to avoid people.

_Damn it_.

"Watch it lady!" Tifa jumped back, narrowly avoiding being run down by a young paper boy on his rounds. The movement, sudden and jerky as it was, caused her precarious cart to finally give in to gravity and sent her plums scattering over the dusty cement.

As would have been the case with most adults, Tifa's original reaction was to shout at the biker's retreating form, warning him to be careful. But she was too flustered, too embarrassed, too terrified to do little more than bend down and attempt to salvage those items that managed to escape. Around her, beyond her notice at the time, Edge had begun waking up. The sky had become more grey than pink, curtains were pulled back from windows and the ground itself began to vibrate as traffic rolled along the streets.

Never had she taken this long to return after a market expedition. Never had she seen and therefore had to look out for the paper boy as she walked down the middle of the usually dead street. Worse than her anxiety of the children's inevitable questions, she feared them worrying about her. And so the furthest and most soiled of the plums were left to some lucky pigeons (she had really bought way too many anyways) and she resigned herself to facing the young jury's interrogation.

Hopefully things would be settled with the same arguments presented last night to the primary plaintiff. Or, if that didn't work, there was always the trusted "you're too young to understand" approach. An excuse she hated using, but was always a comforting emergency fallback. Especially in this case. For explaining to a six-year old that she didn't want to get married because she hadn't, as a certain ninja would say, "tested the merchandise", was definitely not an option.

Speaking of which, dealing with the children's disappointment was sure to be a cakewalk in comparison to her friends'. She could already, practically, hear the phone ringing off its hook as she approached the varnished bar door. Yuffie's teasing, Barret's begging and Cid, the most down-to-earth of the crew, blatantly calling her a $(&#%# idiot.

As if Wednesday's weren't painful enough.

"All in a day's work," she muttered to herself, struggling to keep her hand from shaking as it inserted the key into the lock. Once having passed the threshold, with perhaps a little more hesitance than deemed normal, she noted that her welcome was by far the most unexpected of all scenarios considered.

No anxious children, eager for answers.

No group intervention, each with letters stating how her decision hurt them.

Not even her usual cup of coffee.

There was nothing.

Tifa was still on the fence of whether to feel relieved or more disturbed than all the other options combined, when the unmistakable echo of giggling reached her ears.

Marlene and Denzel. In the kitchen, as they always were on Wednesdays, waiting to be put to work. Apparently none the worse for wear. Cloud's boots were also missing from their usual spot in front of the garage door. A convenient, ridiculously early morning delivery of course. She silently praised his cowardice. It made things simpler.

"Morning Tifa!" both children belted out simultaneously when she entered the room, Denzel shooting out of his seat to help her with the cart as Marlene hastily began to clear the table of various markers and paper. She could have sworn that the girl was doing her best to hide the document surface from her, but decided not to dwell on it. There were fish filets that needed to get into the freezer ASAP. And she figured she may as well take advantage of the mere minutes before their curiosity erupted and they'd inquire about the proposal.

"Good morning you two. Wow, I can't believe you're dressed already!"

"I did my hair by myself too!" Marlene gushed, turning her head to show off a loose, lopsided braid. Tifa couldn't help but smile at the effort.

"That's beautiful sweetie."

"Well, it's not as good as when you do it. But I gotta learn to take care of myself someday, right?"

In the midst of lifting a sac of potatoes from the cart, Tifa halted. During the chaos of last night, she and Cloud hadn't had a chance to discuss let alone complete the new adoption application. He had been stalling her all day, insisting that they wait for the gang to get together for "moral/physical support". Little did she know at the time that the promised support was more for _his_ sake than hers, and that the paperwork was meant to include very different details by the end of the night.

_Mr. and Mrs. Strife, childhood sweethearts and world saviors regrettably found barren, wanting to expand their love into the lives of two children, a boy and a girl, that fell into their care during the Jenova crisis. _

It was such a sickeningly post-card perfect summary. Too bad it would have been, in majority, a total tabloid-worthy skewing of facts...

"I wouldn't worry about that Marlene." Putting the potatoes on the counter, she reached to tenderly flatten the girl's messy bangs. "As long as you want me to, I'll always be here for your hair. Okay?"

Marlene nodded, eyes a little brighter than usual but her smile genuine. Proving that she had very little doubt in the adult's ability to sort things out in the end. The self-styling thing was just a worst case scenario. "I know. Even when I'm old, right? **Really** old. Like...when I'm thirty?"

Tifa laughed, honestly hoping she would be able to see that day. "I promise. Even when you're thirty."

"Which would make you..." Denzel piped in while diligently piling plums into the fruit bowl "sixty-six?"

Hands compulsively moved to smooth down her brow, triple-confirming that it was still devoid of wrinkles. "...Close. I guess."

She made a mental note to make today's lessons more math intensive.

"Hey."

A warm, leather covered hand that seemed to come out of nowhere, was suddenly on Tifa's shoulder, causing her to jump nearly ten feet in the air. She whipped around with her fist pulled back, poised for a brutal strike that was a mere millisecond from release, but stopped herself just in time.

Cloud remained completely unmoved.

He stood there perfectly coiffed and dressed in his standard navy zip sweater and denim cargo pants, holding the Wednesday usual of two steaming mugs filled with freshly brewed coffee. Tifa lowered her hands little by little, irritated that her heartbeat was refusing to slow down despite having revealed the intruder's "harmless" identity.

But today, after last night, Cloud Strife had become that much more dangerous on so many other levels.

"Good morning," he muttered casually while offering the larger _Keep on Rockin' in Midgar_ mug that he knew she favored. His tone was light and friendly as usual, laced with the expected tiredness considering the early hour, but with a hint of something else...something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"You're late!" exclaimed a tiny voice from below, redirection both of their attention.

Cloud affectionately mussed up bangs that Tifa had just finished arranging. "Sorry. Got a little lost. Here." He leaned down to gather a paper bag resting at his feet and placed it into the girl's waiting hands. As it passed between them, Tifa recognized the logo from one of the vendors down at the station.

"If you guys needed something, you could have called."

"Well we were _trying,_" Marlene put emphasis on the word while giving Cloud the evil eye "to have pancakes ready by the time you got back, but we had no eggs. Cloud took Fenrir so that he could beat you home."

"Turns out I am unequipped to handle the circus that is market day. May have accidentally ordered a goat or two from some Wutains when asking for directions."

"Really?!" Breakfast spoilage forgiven, Marlene excitedly clapped her hands together at the prospect of a new pet. "They're SOOOO cute!"

"Umm...no. Not really. I was..." he sighed, reminded yet again that his natural tone was ill-suited for comedy attempts. "It just...took me a while. It's a confusing place. Here." He held up the mug again, closer to Tifa's face this time so that the delicious aroma could not escape her attention. "Before it gets cold."

"Oh. Thanks." As she brought the cup to her lips, she kept her eyes glued to his, still searching for a definition to that new gleam, that unexpected lightness in his voice. But as she took that first sip, relishing the warmth of the ceramic, all concentration dispersed when something startling hit her tongue. Something she hadn't tasted in what felt like forever.

Lowering her gaze, she stared into the usually black abyss, but was instead rewarded with a milky, caramel-colored pool. "Is that..." she licked her lips of the remnants one last time to be sure and felt her taste buds practically pulsing with pleasure "...coconut cream?"

"...Yeah." Carefully avoiding her awed stare, Cloud moved to help Denzel and Marlene retrieve the oil container from one of the higher shelves. "I...have this memory of you liking it in your coffee when we were in Costa del Sol. Sorry. There's more black if you want. Careful guys. Try not to make a mess."

"You remember me being _obsessed_ with it, you mean?" Her giggle held a tinge of frenzy as her fingers curled possessively around the mug. The combination tasted even better than in her memories, but she couldn't help but feel a little guilty as she watched Cloud and the children sort their prepared pancake ingredients. She knew the specific vendor well and had always been tempted to purchase one of his delicate, little bottles with golden caps. But at 120 gil (due to a combination import tax , shipping cost and profit mongering), there had never been an occasion worthy. Dairy didn't agree with Denzel and neither Cloud nor Marlene were fans of the flavor. If she were to put money into a luxurious dessert from the market, it would be on something they could share. Like that subtly spiced chocolate powder from the Wutai region. Or candied ginger crystals from North Corel.

This cream, a substance that was almost worth its weight in gold around here..."It's too much," she muttered aloud, even as her tongue darted out to claim a drop that dared to escape over the rim and her thumb stroked upwards to capture its wake.

After having happily and slowly licked the digit clean of its sweet accumulation, she began to notice that Cloud was watching her. Not just watching, staring_._ Or maybe some would describe it as _gawking._ He was completely and utterly frozen, whisk in hand, forehead furrowed with a look in his eyes that seemed, she guessed, to be a mixture of curious and...eager?

With the tip of her thumb still stuck between her lips, her eyebrows shot upwards; silently asking what in Gaia's name he found so interesting? His responding slight yet sly grin was an excessively detailed answer.

She almost bit through skin, her jaw clenching at the insinuation.

But no. Cloud didn't think like that. Cloud wasn't one of _those_ guys; the 98% of males who would be enticed by something so silly and wholly innocent.

Or maybe...up until now...he had just been really good at hiding it?

"Cloud," Marlene prodded the smirking statue with a flour covered finger. "You're dripping."

"Hm?"

"The batter. It's dripping."

With what seemed like great difficulty, he tore his eyes away from Tifa and back to the whisk which was indeed dripping batter all over the counter. "Oh! Geez..."

"And you told US not to make a mess," giggled Denzel.

"Sorry." He shook his head to clear it, a bashful expression quickly replacing the salacious one. "Distracted."

"Well stop looking at Tifa and help us make her some food! She's no good to anybody if she's hungry!"

"That's true." He laughed then, his quiet, carefree laugh, before bowing his head to concentrate on his mixing duty. As the whisk resumed its steady pace, stirring clumps free as the two chefs sifted in ingredients from either side, he eventually snuck a glance up at Tifa across the kitchen floor.

She hadn't moved a muscle since catching his stare, too shocked by the very idea of Cloud being able to produce such a look. As long as she had known him, for most of his life now, he had always been the most cool and collected of men. One that had always been able to mask the involuntarily reactions that most people couldn't control. Face to face with monsters straight out of nightmares, and he wouldn't flinch. Even when dressed in drag and have a drooling Don Corneo fawning over him, he hadn't made a peep despite the disgust that forced everyone else to shudder or retch. The very idea of him being "distracted", by _anything_, was positively ludicrous.

But watching the three of them together, sharing knowing glances and quiet whispers, Tifa was suddenly aware that she must have had missed something when she went out that morning. The two usually curious children hadn't bothered her about the rejected proposal. Her phone had yet to ring with their friends' opinions on the subject either. And Yuffie, a girl who was known to need minimal sleep and was surely still in town, had yet to attempt breaking down the door.

It all begged the question:

"What did Cloud tell you guys about last night?"

Both children's heads whipped up to central, taller being, eyes wide as if being caught it the midst of an illegal act and looking for counsel. One by one, with his usual appearance of severity back in place, Cloud gave them each a nod of approval. They then turned to fix her as a new and intense focal point.

"Cloud told us why you said no," explained Marlene in a matter-of-fact voice. "We understand and are gonna respect your con...con-" she looked to Denzel for help. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear before returning his gaze to Tifa. "Oh! Right...conFIdenTEEality."

Nodding, as if that were the end of it, they resumed to their cooking. But she was far from persuaded.

"Wait, wait, wait...what did he tell you _exactly_?"

"You do know I'm standing right here?" interjected Cloud, but Tifa dismissed him with a wave.

"Umm..." in the midst of measuring out milk, Denzel seemed to rather unconcerned by anything not pertaining to breakfast. "Something about...dinner first?"

"Six dinner _dates_!" corrected Marlene.

"_At least_ six," finished their counselor, his expression half proud half embarrassed, eyes always on the whisk. "It was a random number...nothing official. Just for personal, future reference."

"Six dinners, huh?" her concern at Cloud having given a lecture on boy-girl relations was gradually morphing from uncomfortable to amusing. For he was probably one of the few people of his age in the world with less familiarity with the process than the average suburban tween. Still, it was the thought that counted, and he had obviously been trying to spare her the awkwardness of having to explain herself while also taming their concern for his welfare. She wondered what other facts he had passed on, knowing that the kids had surely not been satisfied by the 'dinner' excuse alone. Curiosity piqued, she crossed her arms over her chest as a signal that they were far from finished. "What else?"

"Hmm, something about," Marlene pressed her lips together, brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to remember the wording. "Oh yeah! _You have to test the merchandise before you buy it._ Right Cloud?"

"That's right."

"Test...the..." Tifa felt her eye begin to twitch and slapped a hand to her face to hide it.

What had he been thinking?

"Cloud?..." she muttered through impossibly tight lips. "Can I see you outside for a moment?"

"Hmm?" His head finally rose to regard her, expression placid as if the kids had said nothing beyond a comment on the weather. "But we're making pancakes."

"They can wait. Just for a minute." _Or twenty._

"Tiffaaaaa!" groaned both youngsters as they vigorously added the finishing touches of eggs and salt. "But they're ready!"

"Maybe if you let them use the stove?" he suggested, knowing very well how much she feared the combination open flame and wandering fingers.

With a sigh of defeat and gradually narrowing eyes, she saw no other choice but to succumb. "Fine. Marlene? Denzel? Can you set the table? Cloud and I will make the pancakes."

In a flash of scurrying feet, the adults were left alone at the counter as the kids disappeared into the pantry for condiments. Tifa wasted no time making her way around the island to his side as he brought up two pans from the drawer below the stove.

"_Test the merchandise?"_ she repeated in a terse whisper while scraping a match along her apron to light the burner. "Do you even know what that means?"

"I think I do." Cloud waited for the flame to ignite before settling the pans down, eyebrows knitted with uncertainty. "I thought I did anyway."

"Well please do a little more research before repeating things said by _Yuffie_ to our children. The source alone should tell you that it's inappropriate."

"Relax," he cooed, a sudden buoyancy added to his tone. "_Our children_ will be fine."

Only then did she realize what she had said. A simple change of adjectives that symbolized a total refurbishing of her complex belief system.

Speaking of being careful of what you say and to whom you say it...

She opened her mouth to retort, to warn him not to read that much into it. But before she could get a word out he had moved behind her, one hand inadvertently bracing itself on her hip as he reached around for the butter. It was a seemingly innocent touch, ignorable by all witnesses, a mere necessary coincidence considering that she happen to be standing in front of the sought after item. But something about the way he _lingered_, not to mention the fact that it would have been just as easy to take a step further to the right and avoid having to press against her at all, hinted at his surely wicked intentions.

After what felt like an eternity, he withdrew, fingertips dragging along her skin as he did so. Another coincidence, of course. She could do nothing more than blink at him stupidly as he added a two globs to each of the pans, titling the handles to coat the irons surfaces as the grease began to sizzle.

"Batter please?"

Taking a moment to snap out of it, she eventually complied to his request, shakily passing the bowl over. Behind them, they could hear the tinkering of plates and forks being set on the table as well as the usual bickering of the siblings arguing over who should get which pattern of the mismatched china.

It was the same Wednesday morning as every other Wednesday over the past six months.

But today was the first time ever, after pouring two hearty pools into each of the pans, that Cloud apparently felt the need to lick the whisk clean.

* * *

By Thursday afternoon, she couldn't take it anymore.

Only two days after showing his first inkling of interest in twenty years, and Cloud had already pulled (thankfully subdued) versions of almost every tasteless courting technique in the book. The "enticed" looks, the "natural" flattery, the "accidental" touching, the "forgetting" of his shirt when he took his shower that morning and "unintentionally" bumping into her, still dripping wet, as she exited her bedroom.

Tifa felt her eye begin to twitch for probably the hundredth time that hour, the bread she was in the midst of slicing beginning to crumble beneath tense fingers.

That last instance had been especially evil.

Though it was nothing she hadn't seen before at the beach or on laundry day, never had it been from that close. Never had she had to simultaneously deal with the sensory-overloading sight of his lean, muscular frame _and_ his fresh menthol-soap scent _and_ his warm, bare hands on her shoulders as he gently pushed away, muttering an apology, before continuing on down the hallway. As if it was normal. As if he didn't know very well what it did to her.

Her gaze shifted to the ceiling with a frown, knowing that he was up there doing his tax paperwork and probably setting up the next attack on her nervous system. It was the first time since this began that he wasn't hovering, snatching up every opportunity to slide against her. And something about his absence made her more restless than when in his company, wondering with some sort of excited terror what he would do to make up the lost potentials.

That idiot. That infuriatingly _beautiful_ idiot...

She swore he was mere minutes away from purposefully dropping pens to floor and bending over to retrieve them. It was damn tacky, annoyingly distracting (as he obviously intended) but, more than anything, it was bizarre. It made her feel...uncomfortable. It was simply too much, too fast and was much too forward for her tastes. He had to know that. And, if he didn't, then it was only proper that she tell him. As soon as possible. Before he got any worse. Before he came down those stairs and, somehow, gave her a heart attack.

Making sure that the kids were engrossed in their lessons in the corner booth, she quietly slunk toward the kitchen as she always did, needing to prepare the baked goods for the dinner rush. But instead of heading straight to the back, her feet automatically forced her left and up the stairs. Needing to nip this in the bud before all else.

"This has to stop!" His bedroom/office door had barely closed behind her before the words tumbled out of her mouth, desperate as they had been for release for hours now.

Cloud slowly swiveled his chair around the face her, his expression amused, a half eaten plum pinched between his fingers.

She expected him to deny it. Expected him, like most teasing men, to insist that it was all in her head so that he could continue on with his little games with the intention of frustrating her into submission. As a barmaid, she knew the sport well. She saw it played out on a nightly basis not only between patrons, but with fruitless and foolhardy attempts to capture her attention as well. The pattern was common and unmistakable.

However, needless to say, Cloud wasn't just any man.

He sighed, shifting his eyes to the right and pressing the plum to his lips. "Yuffie says I need to be less subtle..." he offered as explanation.

Yuffie. Again. She should have known. He had been merely, and rather naively, using a teenage girl with an unhealthy addiction of bargain bin romance stories as a prompter. A scenario that was all at once sweet and hilarious and still faintly disturbing. But mostly sweet.

Swallowing down an insensitive burst of laughter, Tifa strode over and knelt in front of his chair, resting her forearms on his knees. He tensed a little but otherwise remained impervious to her proximity, as expected. This was the Cloud she knew and loved. The one that remained unruffled, the only hint to his feelings being in his eyes, telling her tales in a language only she could read. As difficult as this method was to translate in comparison, it made the few times she picked up hints of yearning from him that much more exhilarating. Because it was natural. Because it was honest.

"We both want this to work...don't we?" she whispered gently, watching in fascination the long, smooth column of his throat as he swallowed and shortly nodded, eyes still pointing away and yet, she knew, completely focused on her. An effect that was much more heart-stopping than any of his blatant stares. "Then let's set some ground rules. First of all; never, _ever_ take instructions from Wutain ninjas. Deal?"

With a grunt of amusement, Cloud nodded while slowly sinking his teeth into another bite.

"Second of all," she thought back to heinously expensive coconut cream still resting in the fridge "no presents. Third of-"

"Excuse me?" he interrupted, transgression finally encouraging him to meet her gaze. With pale eyebrows raised in question, he waved the masticated plum in front of his face.

Her breath hitched in her throat, annoyed at having forgotten. The produce drawer was practically overflowing with the fruit even with the few that had escaped onto the road, and he knew very well that neither she nor Denzel nor Marlene were _that_ fond of them. "They-they were on sale," she lied.

Cloud, thankfully, pretended to believe it. "So was the cream," he rebutted with a swaggering smirk; an expression that oddly suited him this time. "I know the vendor from my infantry training days. He waved the taxes."

Gods. Tifa found herself fighting an unexpected urge to bite her lip. Never had the ex-soldier been deemed more attractive.

And there was a point to his objection. He had bought her a dairy product, not a diamond. Just because the gift made her extraordinarily happy, didn't mean it was excessive.

"Fine. No presents with the exception of discounted edibles," she corrected. Cloud, still smiling as he nibbled the remaining pulp, nodded his assent. The action gave her half a mind to add _no eating fruit in front of me_ to the list, but decided against it. She deserved that one secret.

"So, last but not least," having finally captured his eyes, she focused into them, summoning his devious intentions out of hiding. "No _lingering._"

Again, he made no attempts to deny it as would have been expected from anyone else. They both knew very well that every little thing Cloud did always had its reasons. The unnecessary assistance, the leaning, the dragging digits that always happened to land on that one inch of exposed skin between her shirt hem and apron. Though his exact intentions were still far from clear, the targets never were.

She waited for his nod with waning patience as the seconds ticked by. Finally, not an agreement, but a question slipped past his lips.

"Why?"

In his ability to tongue-tie her, he never failed to deliver.

"B-Because!" she stuttered while fretfully pushing her hair behind her ears. "It's...improper."

"No its not." The plum pit, having been cleaned of its flesh, was tossed in a perfect arc across the room and into the waste bucket. "Not yet."

Tifa had to suppress a shudder, unsure if it was spurred by fear or desire or distaste. "Please don't flirt with me like that Cloud. It's creepy coming from you."

"I'm not flirting. I don't know _how_ to flirt. I'm stating facts. Nothing I've done can be considered improper. Yet." No mischievous glint. No teasing smirk. Just his usual deadpan expression, proof that he really did consider his words ordinary. Like he was planning nothing more personal than the upgrading of his bike.

"Why the 'yet'?" she asked after a deep breath.

Cloud shrugged. "Cause it's not Friday."

Friday. The dinner date. Their first dinner date. Actually, now that Tifa thought about it, this may very well be his first real date _ever_, with the exception of a near silent gondola ride two years ago. Everything, his every action recently, suddenly had a whole new, additional purpose.

"You're training?" she guessed at last, her lips curving into an incredulous smile. "You're...warming up for our date? Seriously?"

Cloud slouched further in his seat, frowning a little. Obviously offended by her mockery. "I'm learning. Is that so wrong?"

"No! Not at all! It's just," giggling was unavoidable, even though it caused his frown to deepen. "You can't _practice_ to be a successful date. You just have to let it happen!"

"And you," he abruptly leaned forward in his chair, face inches from hers and blue eyes flashing "have to stop being so afraid of change."

As if his proximity wasn't enough to get her heart racing, the addition of his words made her feel like the organ was trying to beat its way through her rib cage. Knowing that she was too flustered to formulate a reply, he dared to push it further.

Slowly, one worn, leather glove reached out to brush some stray hairs from her cheek before settling on her neck. He made the gesture seem so casual, so easy, but at this distance the language of his eyes spoke volumes of how much effort it was taking him not to shake, not to breathe, not to lean in closer. Silently, he willed her not to fight it, reminding her of their mutual desire to succeed in this little experiment. And that trying, honestly trying, meant no longer keeping him at arm's length.

Unlike the several times he had entered her personal space recently, in this instance she felt neither disturbed nor angered. Just, as always, nervous. This time there was no one in the background pulling his strings, no practiced script dictating his movements. And because of that she had no injustices to hide behind, no distracting jokes to make at his expense. Only fear. The fear that always made her to hesitate in everything concerning him. Even though she knew very well, if they were to have even the most remote chance of working out, that she had to let it go.

Gaia, how she wished she could just let it go.

"You...hurt me," she whispered to the air between the them. It was the first time she had brought up, out loud, the true reason for her hesitance. The dating period was just a formality, an excuse for extra time to try to get over his abandonment. To test if she _could_ get over it.

Cloud nodded his understanding, left hand reaching to trace the other side of her jaw. "I know. I'm sorry."

Tifa scoffed. She knew he was sorry. She knew he would do his best to make it up to them. She knew, especially since two nights ago, that he would gladly spend the rest of his life proving it to her. But that wasn't the point.

"I want it to work, you know that right? It would be so perfect if we worked. Everyone expects us to. But I..."

"Don't worry about what they expect," he interrupted, forcing her neck to crane upwards and keep looking him in the eye. "Don't worry about what I expect. Just...try it out. Go along with what you feel."

At this, Tifa cocked a teasing eyebrow. "Says the man who has a seduction schedule?"

With a groan, Cloud fell back into his chair, removing his hands from her neck to rub both of them down his face. "How do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Make me feel like an awkward and pathetic sixteen-year-old again?"

"I-I don't know," she stuttered, genuinely apologetic even though puzzled. "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be...It's...It's sort of..." he laughed then, genuinely laughed as if in the midst of a particularly entertaining epiphany. "Fun. It's fun to feel this way again."

Though still infuriatingly bashful, he somehow dredged up the courage to drop his hands and face her, making a silent vow to not make the mistake of hiding like his past self had.

Sometimes they both forgot that he had lost the years of sixteen to twenty-one. A period that was often described, depending on who you were talking to, as either the best or worst of your life. Either way, they were sort of essential to growing up, figuring out who you were and what you wanted out of life. And as a result, in many ways, he was still stuck back there. Despite everything he had been through since. He was still the boy who failed making it into SOLDIER, the boy who rarely spoke, the boy that didn't want anything more in the world than to be worthy of her attention.

And even though that boy was considered relatively pitiable in comparison to the awe-inspiring hero that is present-day Cloud Strife, Tifa found that she rather liked him. She also considered that from such a person, perhaps the occasional _linger_ wasn't so bad. In fact, it may even be welcome.

"Friday's tomorrow," she reminded him, the devious smirk surfacing onto her mouth this time.

In reaction, he did nothing. Except for that slight, dilating of his pupils which, to anyone else, would have presented itself as a full-body shiver.

"I know." Like he could forget.

"Remember. No ninjas."

A soft smile, then a nod. "I'll remember."

She stood up then, brushing the dust off her apron before turning to leave. But before exiting the room, there were a few other details she just had to clarify. "And...nothing embarrassing from the movies like a violinist at our table. Okay?"

Cloud pressed his lips together. "Okay."

She tried to leave again, but one new thought harangued her. "Same goes for transportation. Walking or Fenrir is fine. No...chocobo-drawn carriages."

Obviously on the precipice of full-out chuckling, he nodded again. "Of course."

"Good." One foot over the threshold, she paused one last time. "And please don't..."

"Tifa," standing up from his chair, he quickly crossed the room, forcing her to take the two steps remaining back out into the hallway. "I say this with the utmost respect. Go away."

And with that, he slammed the door shut, harshly reminding her that it was his lesson to learn and that after today's discussion, he wasn't so much of an idiot as to try anything over-the-top.

After taking a moment to unnecessarily straighten her clothes and hair, Tifa returned down to the bar. Just as she turned the corner from the staircase, she noticed Marlene and Denzel's heads whip to their assignments, obviously having been in the midst of a discussion regarding the couple. She chose to pretend not to notice, giving them a knowing grin before heading into the kitchen to get the pies prepared as originally intended.

She had just finished pressing the dough into the pans and had opened the garbage lid to dispose of the trimmings, when it caught her eye.

A white paper, covered in colorful scribbling and food blotches. One of Marlene's drawings from yesterday, probably the one she had tried to hide. Curiosity overwhelming privacy, Tifa found herself reaching in between the sludge to pull it out, brushing away the goo of last night's pasta dish with the back of her wrist.

Eventually, it was revealed to be a family portrait. A messy one as expected by a six-year old, but the characters recognizable none the less. Marlene's bright pink bow stood out on top of a head of long brown hair. Denzel, standing next to her, had solid vivid blue eyes that took up more than half of his face. And behind them stood two taller figures. One with lengthy blonde spikes of hair and the other with crimson eyes and pearl-drop earrings. Characters she had seen often in their artwork but always separated, always as individuals. And never had she been portrayed in such a puffy, white dress, nor he with a black suit and tie. Nor had they ever had their hands overlapping each other's or tiny hearts floating between them.

It took her a moment or two, but as the image's insinuation dawned on her, Tifa felt her eyes instantly begin to burn.

Despite the fact that it may soon become a biological hazard, she delicately scraped the lingering food remnants off the paper and brought it over to the counter, smoothing it flat against the tiles. It would be a while yet, if ever, that the picture would be safe to post along her others on the fridge. At the time of conception, it had been nothing more than a silly wish that the girl had obviously been embarrassed at having made corporeal. Still, Tifa figured it was well worth the effort of attempting to salvage.

Just in case.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I am less emo today, no more review complaining I swear. But in order to reward those awesome supporters, here's a fast update and a long chapter for ya (proof that your comments really are a good influence :P)!

Well, I'll be honest for one thing. The long chapter was an accident. I usually try to restrict my updates to 8 pages at 12 point font, but for some reason Word decided to be weird and set my new document at 10 point and I didn't notice until too late.

Oh well. Passing out now...Twilight hangover...

Thanks again. Love you all!


	8. Best Laid Plans

"_Expect the best, plan for the worst, and prepare to be surprised."_

**-- Denis Waitley**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter VIII:_ Best Laid Plans_

Tifa Lockhart had always considered herself an educated person.

Not _institutionally_ educated of course. For few people nowadays could afford to even visit those remote campuses of higher learning that devoured privileged teenagers and spat out doctors, engineers and business executives.

In Nibelheim tradition, schooling had never been a true measure of achievement.

Originally, it had been music. Long before that first terrifying day of classes, she had been shaming kids nearly twice her age at piano recitals. It was then, early on, after pulling off a particularly difficult piece, that she discovered how delectable it was to be praised. And she found herself struggling to continue to impress every, even the most minute, audience.

Following her mother's death, Tifa then turned to her father and Master Zangan to fill that void in her confidence. Soon she could catch fish, scale mountains and fight, efficiently fight, not only with equipment but with her bare fists! At fifteen her skills were already the rival of champions, regardless of gender. So when Shinra called asking for guide into the mountains that fateful day, there had really been no other option considered for the job. Out of even the town's sturdy, country-boy population, no one could compare. Tifa was always the best.

In every, little thing attempted, she usually succeeded in mastering. Though it was by no means easy or, as some insisted, simply good luck. She worked hard for her abilities, practiced constantly to keep them from waning, and was a true believer in the idea that with a little determination, anything was possible.

Yes, in many ways, Tifa was _educated_ ...but in others, she had to admit, there was room for improvement.

Especially when it came to romance.

Courting was one of the few sports that she hadn't quite managed to get the hang of despite many short-lived trials, the memories of which still left a bad taste in her mouth. Even after having moved to the city and loosening her standards a little, the process continued to be awkward and unrewarding. Something that was frustratingly difficult to practice and therefore not worth the effort of trying to perfect.

It had been three years now since she stopped trying, since anyone had so much as held her hand. Sustaining a relationship had been pushed onto the list of those few things deemed impossible, alongside such feats as stable high-heel walking and by-hand meringue whipping, all bolstered by the fact that she had at least made several genuine efforts to try.

In summary; no, Tifa Lockhart hadn't dated much.

But she had enough to know that, so far, this was **not** going well.

"Oh dear Gods..." she stuttered, instantly whipping a shaky hand to cover her mouth. "Cl-Cloud...I am s-s**so** sorry!"

"Shh. It-its's okay," he insisted through an unavoidable wince, slowly and oh-so-carefully unzipping his surely ruined jacket. "It happens."

"I-I can't believe…After all we…_Dammit_..."

Though both of them hadn't expected it to go perfectly, though both knew that this outing, this _first_ date, the first one for either of them in years and in forever, was meant to have its bumps and awkward moments, neither had expected this.

For as little familiarity as they had on the subject, it was pretty much universally agreed upon that vomiting on your date's shoulder was probably one of the worst things you could possibly do.

Especially in the first ten minutes.

* * *

It had started going downhill a mere two hours previously. And, as always, it involved a certain meddlesome ninja.

* * *

"No," Tifa declared without a hint of hesitation.

Yuffie's lips fell into a disappointed frown. "Why the heck not?"

"Because I haven't suffered a head injury as of late."

Considering the argument settled, she turned back to the mirror and continued to brush the knots out of her dripping hair, trying her best to ignore the disapproving glower over her reflection's shoulder.

But the girl was, not unexpectedly, relentless.

"Tifffaaaaa…." she whined while stroking the wisps of shimmering red fabric. As if she were consoling a favorite pet that had just been deemed 'un-cute'. "Stop being such a mom for, like, two seconds and recognize that this is _the_ perfect dress!"

"That 'dress' is more of an undergarment. People will stare."

"Well _duh._ That's the point! Just try it on at least? Trust me."

Tifa chuckled and gave the bag the benefit of one last glance over her shoulder. It wasn't long before she was adamantly shaking her head again, avoiding the pull of the satiny-looking cloth with a wistful breath.

"No. Can't. Besides," she gestured vaguely to the heap of yellow silk upon her comforter "I already have a dress."

The ninja's eyes widened with unabashed horror as she scanned the wrinkled and stained item from top to bottom, her conclusion made clear by a cringe so deep one would think something rotten had just been passed under her nose.

"No. No way. You can't possibly mean…"

A loud and low groan of frustration interrupted as Tifa swiveled her chair around, tightening her robe's sash as a sort of security restraint; ready and more than willing to skip to last resort, light violence in order to achieve some semblance of peace.

As _epic_ as some people were dubbing this outing between her and Cloud, she was refusing to fall into the tempting trap of inflated expectations. And seeing as such, she had fittingly chosen to forgo most of the typical female preparations: no new clothes were purchased, no hours of primping were wasted and, most importantly, no advice was gleaned or even remotely desired from friends (especially such notoriously inappropriate ones).

Tonight was meant to be about two old friends getting far away from outside influences and debating whether to change their context. Tonight was about testing the waters, balancing pros and cons, figuring out whether being together was something they genuinely wanted to do or just felt they should do out of convenience. It was as much about business as it was pleasure. As much scientific as emotional. And Tifa had already acknowledged and made terms with the very likely conclusion that it was all simply too awkward and/or too late and/or too difficult.

Call it cynicism. Call it, as her current antagonist would suggest, being _boring_. There had just been so many disappointments in her life that she wisely chose being prepared over being optimistic. For the real danger of Yuffie's choice garment wasn't only in its physical audacity. It's that it would unfurl all those psychological efforts so far, making it obvious how desperate she and everyone else was for the evening to produce positive results. It would be a constant, breath-constricting reminder of the pressure already being applied from all angles.

The yellow dress was simple, unpretentious and uncomplicated. He had already seen her in it, which gave it the added attribute of _safe_.

To Yuffie however, it was a desperate cry for help.

"Tifa...Seriously?" she asked after a pause that was just a few seconds shy of being considered polite. "Are you _trying_ to scare him into ignoring women-kind again? It's not healthy ya know?"

The barmaid only sighed and turned back toward the mirror, tugging the brush through her tresses with newfound hostility. "It's **fine**," she spat while whipping her chosen, modest garment off the comforter and into her lap, trying to convince herself that Marlene's buttered fingerprints were barely noticeable.

"It's GROSS! I don't think I'm being unreasonable by recommending that you wear something, at the very least, laundered."

"It's silk. Hand-wash only." For the hundredth time that day, she cursed the outrageous feature which was the primary reason she didn't usually own such fine clothing. "I have two kids and a bar. I-I didn't have time. It's fine. He won't care. What I wear is far from the point." In the mirror, she saw Yuffie's eyebrows rise. And so she added one last "It's FINE!", but delivered it with embarrassingly light confidence.

Easily enough, panic soon began to devour the warm glow of excitement that had been developing since she woke that morning. And a nearly suffocating wave of concerns began to plague her psyche.

Maybe...maybe she was _under-_doing it?

Maybe he would interpret her lack of effort regarding her appearance as lack of caring?

Maybe he would _like_ it if she dressed differently? Not only like a girl for once, but like a _woman._ Maybe, by wearing Yuffie's chosen dress, he would be unable to resist...?

Tifa's hand, in the midst of loosening its grip on the now considered ruineddress, suddenly froze, annoyed at having fallen into such an obvious downward spiral. In just a few short minutes, Yuffie had somehow resurrected her younger, competitive self. The girl who lived only to make those around her proud, and who would have eagerly snatched up the new, flashier garment if she thought it had any chance of improving her odds of winning. The prize being not Cloud but Cloud's temporary fixation, along with the group's praise as the woman who achieved the impossible: making the notorious Mr. Lone Wolf act human for once.

She remembered the awkwardness of yesterday with his outlandish attempts at courting, having come from this very same source by no coincidence. She remembered warning - no, begging him to take things into his own hands. To go with his gut, to be himself. A deal which should be applied to both parties. They couldn't let Wutain ninjas influence their actions, not if they wanted to have an honest chance.

"Yuffie..."

She was about the force her out into the street, about to call in a favor from Vincent to guarantee that the girl stayed far away from them all night, but then she heard the door viciously slam from below.

Cloud. Home early from his deliveries and, she sensed, very, very displeased about something. And the combination displeased Cloud and persistent Yuffie was known to be virtually lethal.

"Stay here," Tifa hissed in the most threatening voice she could muster, hoping against all hope that the girl listened for once in her life.

After a quick glance in the mirror that did nothing but confirm that she looked wet and tired, Tifa tiptoed toward the stairs while tousling her hair and pulling at the short hem of her robe. There was a reason, she now realized, why people in the early stages of a relationship shouldn't live together. Even her tamed version of the feminine mystic ruse was quite difficult to keep up when you shared a bathroom. Yet another excuse as to why Yuffie's gloss-over attempts would have been in vain.

"There's got to be something you can do," Cloud was muttering into his phone, pacing the bar floor with his free hand clenched around one of the larger Tsurugi blades' hilt. "Surely someone else can-"

His eyes shot up as her bare foot touched the first panel of hard wood flooring and she forced herself to swallow a gasp.

He was mess. In one of the worst states of wear she had ever seen him in while still conscious.

"What happened?!" she exclaimed, shame of her state of dress completely forgotten as she rushed to his side.

With the shaking of his head, Cloud requested her silence for a few moments longer, dust and dirt flying off of him with the movement.

Reluctantly holding her tongue, Tifa's hands still forced him down into the nearest stool so that she could get a better look. Up close it was even worse. The entire left side of his cheek was scraped raw and there were four long, deep gashes on the opposite side of his torso. It was the exact accident she had always feared when he went on deliveries to Junon, taking that monster infested shortcut through the woods that just begged for trouble. He had obviously been taken by surprise and fell off his bike, probably while going at some ridiculously hazardous speed as well.

Biting down her desire to scream at his senselessness, she moved to fetch the first aid kit from behind the bar, trying to find solace in the fact that he was still alive, he had still come home.

This time.

"No. You know I can't do that," he grumbled into the phone, eyes never leaving her as she placed the usual gauze and antiseptic onto the counter top. "Because this isn't my fault. _You_ should have found a replacement. I gave you more than enough warning."

Cotton ball saturated, Tifa poised herself to clean his cheek, gesturing with a nod of her head that he move the phone. He complied with his hand fumbling to drop the gadget into his lap and pick it up again to bring to the other ear, forearm now awkwardly stretched across his neck. It was then that she noticed his right arm, still holding the sword, hanging oddly loose by his side.

One touch, with the intention of only rolling up his sleeve, caused a piercing wince to escape his lips and the phone to plummet to the floor.

"Forget the call!" she insisted angrily, roughly pushing him back as he bent down to retrieve it. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing really. The usual pack of zemzeletts. I was on the phone. They surprised me. Can you get me the-"

"What's wrong with your arm?" There was no point in lecturing him about making calls while driving. After this, he probably wouldn't do it again.

"Tifa. This is important. Just give me the-" she reached down to his feet and brought the glowing device to his eyelevel before decisively slapping it shut "phone..."

With a defeated sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that she wouldn't let him focus on anything else prior to tending to his injuries.

"I don't know," he muttered, gratefully accepting the relief of his sword's weight as she unfurled his fingers and leaned it against the bar. "It hurts, so I know it's more than a bruise. Probably dislocated. Maybe fractured."

"If it's fractured, we have to get you to the hospital. Dislocated I can deal with here." Quick fingers reached forward to grasp the zipper of his sweater, deftly pulling it down. "Help me get this off."

For a long, awkward moment, he hesitated. Eyebrows raised to enhance his expression of nervous incredulity. But one scan of her determined features proved that he had no other choice but to comply, automatically shifting his good shoulder as she spread the two sides of the fabric apart and carefully directing his arms out of the sleeves.

"I thought," he paused, cringing when she accidentally brushed against one of his wounds.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I just...I thought it wasn't until _after_ the date that this happened?"

Tifa smacked him on the forehead, the only area of skin that wasn't covered in blood or bruises. Here she was, giving herself a neck cramp while desperately trying to keep her eyes only on his injuries and he just had to point out the already obvious tension. His lack of tact truly was ludicrous sometimes.

"Didn't we agree yesterday that you would stop being creepy?"

Cloud chuckled as she shimmied the last of the fabric free from his wrist and straightened out his bare arm for diagnosis. "I guess. Sorry. Just figured..." he poked timidly at the trailing sash of her bathrobe, making it increasingly difficult for her to focus on the bicep's discoloration. "I've never seen this. Thought that maybe yo-_umph_!"

In one neat movement, she maneuvered the shoulder back into its socket, knowing it was less painful when done by surprise and also, conveniently, cutting off his assumptions regarding her outfit.

Yes, the robe was rather short. Yes, it would have probably been wiser to throw on some sweatpants or at least underwear before coming to greet him. But he shouldn't be reading into it that much. It wasn't like she did it on purpose. It wasn't like she noticed that his sincere, subtle stares usually lingered on her legs more than anything else. Seeing as her date dress was deemed a catastrophe, it wasn't like she desperately wanted him to have at least one enticing image of her before this night was over.

Had she...?

Was her confidence really that pathetically fragile?

"You were right! It WAS dislocated!" she said brightly while slapping her hands together, forcefully interrupting her own disturbing thoughts. With his eyes still squeezed shut and his teeth gritted, Tifa wiggled the phone back into his open right hand as a reward for good behavior. "I'm giving you another five minutes to figure out the business issues while I run you a bath. You'll need to rinse out those scratches with soap and water. Then we're going to the hospital for stitches and x-rays."

"No!" A hand shot out to catch her elbow as she began to walk away, pulling her back to his side. When he spoke again, his voice was notably distressed. "Tonight...we have...dinner. Tonight. Remember?"

With a soft giggle, Tifa nodded, flattered though concerned by his apparent panic. "Of course I remember. Another time, okay?"

"No. Tonight. It has to be tonight. I've been waiting- "

"Then you'll wait a little longer. There's no rush. It's only been three days."

At this, Cloud laughed breathlessly, his sweaty forehead leaning forward to press against her shoulder as his body relented a little to exhaustion. "It feels..." a shaky sigh was breathed against her, the grip on her arm loosening and slipping down to settle on her wrist "a lot longer than that."

Tifa would have laughed with him if it weren't for the underlying misery in his words. It had only been three days since he had made the proposal but, to him perhaps, it had been **years** in the making. Nearly a lifetime of trying and failing, so much wasted time for both of them hiding behind excuses and uncertainties.

Impatience was understandable considering. However she couldn't help but be slightly annoyed by his continuing insistence on trying to skip to the back of the book, to the happy ending they both wanted to discover; Princess Amelia on the church steps with her Prince, riding off into the sunset and never having to worry about anything ever again. Didn't he realize yet that it wasn't for the _ending_ that people fell in love with these stories? You had to enjoy them for both the comedy and the tragedy, the bad luck and the conquering of odds, for the epic battles and elaborate musical numbers. It was the journey, not the finale, that made you want to read or watch or experience a fairy-tale time and time again.

"There's no rush," Tifa repeated with an amused yet frustrated breath. Instinctively, she reached to brush a few sweat-soaked strands of hair from his good cheek, her fingers combing through to the back of his head. The action had been impulsive on her part, as natural and tender as when she did the same thing to Marlene and Denzel but, of course, there was a slightly different motivation in this case. As much as her touch was meant for comfort through his pain, she did it also because she simply wanted to feel him- to finally know the texture of those gravity defying locks which had fascinated her since childhood. They were softer than expected. Like chocobo feathers, as Marlene had often described.

Before the terror could set it, before the implications of what she was doing could begin to choke her and force the feelings to be locked away once more, she was distracted by Cloud leaning into her touch. His eyes, still closed, were no longer clenched and his body fell limp in the stool. Almost as if he were sleeping. Mixed with the heat of his skin and that earthen, tingly menthol scent that was uniquely Cloud, everything accumulated to make her feel, mysteriously, lightheaded.

It was quite a good feeling. So much so that she forgot to be bothered by both their 'tipping-the-odds' behavior.

Tonight was meant to be about logistics after all. And such things would be difficult to think about let alone discuss if they continued to have any sort of skin to skin contact.

And yet, no matter how hard she tried, in that moment she couldn't dare bring herself to move away.

It was like magnets. Industrial strength magnets.

"No rushing. I know," Cloud conceded after a few more seconds of internal struggle, seeing as it was currently taking all his willpower to not collapse. "I was just...looking forward to it. I…I want to get it over with."

At this, Tifa's jaw dropped open and the hand in his hair tugged back a little to force him into looking up at her. "Excuse me?"

Cloud let out a single, throaty chuckle, too tired to be embarrassed by his poor wording. "You know what I mean. It's nerve wracking, waiting for the first one."

"It's a date, not a dentist appointment."

"The two are kind of similar."

"Cloud!"

"Sorry. That sounded bad. It's not like you think. Just..." His red-rimmed, blue eyes were glazed with a rare weariness that forced her into silence, tilting her head as a gesture to continue though her expression remained insulted. "You're terrified at first, sitting in that waiting room. That's the worst part. It's a little less scary when you finally meet the doctor. And then, at the end, you get a prize. After that, you start looking forward to the visits. You strive to impress him with your oral hygiene. Cause then the prizes keep getting better and better. So, yeah. It's bad, the waiting, but on the way to something good. And then it's all good...in theory. Right?"

He gave her a hopeful twitch of his lips, but she remained stone-faced; her mind still struggling to digest his overall meaning while simultaneously stressing over what "prize" she was expected to relinquish tonight.

As if reading her mind, Cloud's eyes widened and he hastily began to re-phrase his anecdote. "No...That's not what I..." he shook his head to clear it, causing Tifa to giggle as his intentions, yet again, were proven innocent though skewed by lack of rhetoric practice. "Never mind. This was...a terrible analogy. The point isn't the prize."

"Good!" she blurted with difficulty through chuckles. "Cause I was close to recommending that you go look up the local dentist for a date."

"Tifa," he growled in warning, imploring that she make a semi-genuine effort to stop laughing. After a few failed attempts, he eventually succeeded in forcing all hilarity from the situation when he boldly pulled her a little closer so that her hips fit between his parted knees. A position that could in no way be interpreted as proper for either nursing or consoling. Especially with one of her hands still buried into the back of his hair, and his bare and bleeding chest radiating a heat felt through her thin cotton robe, and the friction between his thighs and her hips inadvertently pulling the material upward by perilous millimeters.

As intended, he suddenly had her full, devote and silent attention. In fact, he had managed to shut down all her motor abilities as well.

"The point isn't the prize," he repeated in a voice devoid of all derision. "It's the idea that something is terrifying until you experience it. And I just want to start experiencing and not stressing. As soon as possible."

It took her a few moments to untangle her nerves and digest the new interpretation. And it wasn't that much longer until the originally offensive comparison of their first date to a dentist appointment started to make sense. Despite her assertion to keep all things casual, there was no ignoring the fact that tonight was the epitome of a _**big deal**_. For their friends, for their children...for them. For everyone. Their union, or their decision to suppress that bond, would inevitably affect many, many lives. And the waiting, the torturous _waiting_, for an answer was more painful than the potential realization that they should just remain friends.

Not that, now, being just friends seemed liked an option. Not when so much of him was exposed and so close to her. Not when he was looking at her like that, the subtle flash of his irises hinting strongly of his faltering reserve, reminding her that he was still a mostly-human male despite the muddled DNA. And not when she found herself wishing, for the first time seriously, that his infamous control would finally crash and burn.

"We-We'll reschedule," she muttered while reluctantly removing the fingers from his hair, taking the scenic route over his forehead and down his dirt streaked cheek.

Cloud groaned in response, like a child being denied a popsicle on a hot day due to some silly reason like 'you'll spoil your supper'. "Do we have to?"

"Yes we have too! Personally, I'd rather we go at a time when you won't bleed out into the table cloth. I'd rather..." she paused, then sniggered, unable to say it.

"You'd rather what?" he prompted quietly, nuzzling her hand a little. It gave her the necessary push to continue.

"I'd rather we be…" she took a deep, staggering breath, stalling for time, knowing that it wouldn't be proper to imply it. But some part of her youthful, brazen self still reigned, putting personal triumph above those typical, "responsible" regulations. And it took less than a second to decide that she wanted not only to imply, but to act. Eventually. For this was one of the few things that in her winning, everyone won."I'd rather we be at full, physical...peak. For after. When we get back to our home."

Cloud's eyes widened considerably and she knew instantly that she had crossed a line. A line she no longer feared though. For up until then it had just been gentle teasing on his part, but with her new participation in the game, suddenly it was serious. Suddenly, he knew, it may have an actual chance of happening.

Suddenly, it was more petrifying than humorous.

"_Our_ home...?"

With a shy grin, she nodded. "Our home."

Something about the mix of anxiety and anticipation in his expression, about the way the mako-glow to his eyes grew brighter, and she no longer blamed him for his silly lines over the past few days if this was how _she_ looked in reaction. For lack of a better word, it was..._fun_ to see him so flustered, to know that she had such an effortless power over this legendarily powerful SOLDIER.

It was also fun, to quote his depiction from yesterday, to be made to feel sixteen again. As she was feeling now when his good arm slowly began to rise, dragging deliberate fingers from her knee, up her thigh and to her waist covered only by a thin layer of cotton. The wearing of the robe seemed like the most brilliant of accidents as a long forgotten surge of heat spread from the top of her head to her very toes.

For the first time, seriously, she wondered what it would be like having Cloud spend the night. And not across the hall, six steps to the left. Even though they were technically still far from that step, it was something she now wanted to see happen, even if they failed as a long-term couple. If only for curiosity's sake. She now felt an intense compulsion to eventually explore every inch of his skin, to know the story behind every scar, to discover all his secrets, if only for one night.

But that wouldn't be tonight. She wouldn't let nearly three years of waiting cumulate into only three days.

Cloud wasn't that type of boy.

Not to mention, he hardly had the strength to sit upward anymore let alone participate in such exercise.

"Go take your bath," she instructed in a surprisingly husky voice. "I have to get dinner ready for the kids."

While shaking his head, he pulled her those two inches closer so that their chests touched, his arm snaking its way around her back and his head resting on the space between her shoulder and breast. As close as they could possibly get without being completely indecent. A position that was so very new and yet, surprisingly, not so strange. "I don't want to move," he murmured into her skin.

Well of course neither of them wanted to move. Of course, if they had been alone maybe, and if she couldn't already feel his blood seeping into her robe, they could have very easily stayed there for hours. Exploring. Like two previously untouched teenagers hiding in their parents' basement, praying that the adults' radio show playing on the floor above muffled any involuntary cries. The way it should have been.

The image made her giggle, which caused him to sigh against her neck.

Luckily, there was no need to attempt calming each other down or awkwardly discuss the zenith of their so far immature physical relationship. For a loud, long and shrill scream from the upper floor easily and instantly forced their attention elsewhere.

Just when they thought their luck couldn't get any worse.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Less than 2 hours ago, literally, I handed in my last University project ever. The typical excuses, yada yada yada, of me taking forever to update. But of course, the second that sucker finished uploading to the school server, I had this file up and running and determined to post before sleeping :D. Truth be told, I've had TWO chapters of this fic and one each of my other two ready for a while, but I tend to write crap when it's in bits and pieces during breaks so I refused to put anything up. In fact, this chapter includes my first real "cliffhanger" because it ended up being twenty pages long! So here is part one. Hope you enjoyed.

Welcome all new readers I've collected these past few months! Just so you know, I do update faster depending on reviews (especially when I have the next part already done :P). Hope to hear from you all! It's good to be back and I look forward to a writing-productive summer!

- May


	9. Signed and Sealed

"_Isn't it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity..."_

**-- Vaclav Havel**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter IX:_ Signed and Sealed_

There was quite a short list of people currently in the house who could have produced a scream of that caliber and tone. As well as a low number of equally frightening reasons that could spur that type of extreme reaction from her. Such facts which instantly caused both Cloud and Tifa's hearts to leap into their throats.

"Marlene!"

In a flash the adults disentangled themselves, and she already half way up the stairs by the time he managed to stand up. He caught up to her in the second floor hallway, racing to get to the bedroom door first so that he could kick it in, clearing the path for her more fluid attacks. But it was deemed unnecessary as something else, or more specifically, **someone** else caught their attention.

The couple simultaneously came to a skidding halt, turning not towards the children's' room but to Tifa's, eyes wide as they curiously contemplated the thick cloud of black smoke billowing out from under the door.

"What's going on?"

Marlene and Denzel, completely unharmed though obviously startled, poked their heads out of their room.

That left only one other, originally overlooked, person who could have been the scream's source. Also, coincidentally, a person who had a known habit of toying with dangerous materia. Materia that had been left in Tifa's unlocked jewelry box.

But no. Such a thought was absurd. Even Yuffie wasn't that irresponsible. Right?

No matter how obvious the answer was, Tifa still insisted on giving the benefit of the doubt. That is until the blaring fire alarm confirmed the worst case scenario, forcing her to switch gears into panic-protective mode.

"You remember what we practiced?!" she yelled at the two kids over the wailing siren. "Use the ladder outside your window! Meet us at the street corner! Be careful!"

Marlene and Denzel didn't need any more convincing seeing as, by then, the dense smoke had begun to darken the entire hallway. With the many electrical and natural gas problems Edge had been having alongside the looming threat of groups against the WRO's policies, they were thankfully well prepared for such spontaneous evacuations. And Cloud was mid-stride on his way to following, to make sure they got out safely, when a tight grip on his wrist held him back.

"Wait! Yuffie's in there!"

He almost tripped over his own feet in the midst of turning, the shock of this disaster's source rendering him thunderstruck. Not to mention the terrifying idea of what the ninja's dire intentions were in being here, in the bar, tonight of all nights, and setting things on fire.

"Yuffie!?" he called while waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to keep the air breathable, still poised for retreat in case the girl's presence was but an evil hoax. "Are you in there?"

A clank.

A clink.

"_Yeah_!" she called finally, her voice surprisingly more annoyed than frightened. "_One_ _sec._"

Tifa and Cloud shared a concerned glance.

A whoosh.

Then a splat.

And finally, a sizzle, followed by a cloud of steam and sudden gush of water that pooled from under the door up to their toes.

"_Fixed it_!" came a final, cheery exclamation, the enthusiasm of which made Tifa's stomach do a few flips.

When they finally got around to entering the room, Cloud being the one to turn the knob after noting her catatonic state, they were pleased to note that the damage wasn't as bad as expected. Then again, they had both prepared for missing walls, a blown-out ceiling, piles of coal dust as furniture and, perhaps, a few mangled limbs strewn about. In relative terms, Tifa's bed being the only victim was indeed a good thing.

And thinking of it in relative terms was the only way Tifa could keep herself from strangling the girl.

In the center of the room, where once her pristinely made, twin-sized comforter and mattress were, there was now only a smoldering metal frame, springs and bits of charred fabric. And among the threads of white cotton sheets were also, unmistakably, fragments of yellow silk; the tattered remnants of her modest and apparently "unsuitable" date dress.

Conveniently, the garment had become an innocent bystander of what was surely a random, unavoidable accident. An accident that probably hadn't meant to spread so far, and could have easily achieved the same result in a variety of less dangerous ways.

Tifa slapped a hand to her forehead and released an involuntary groan. "Wouldn't it have been easier and _cheaper_ just to spill bleach on it or something?"

Yuffie grinned sheepishly, her intended excuses regarding 'stain-removal via open flame' cut off by a chain of raspy coughs.

While giving the younger woman an exasperated glare, Tifa strode over to the window and yanked it open while Cloud reached up to silence the alarm located above the door. The sudden silence, broken only by her hacking, seemed to multiply the already tense atmosphere tenfold.

"I was-" more coughing interrupted as Yuffie slyly attempted to return the glowing red and blue orbs back into their rightful places without either of the adults noticing. "I read- _urggmm -_ somewhere that -_ack! -_heat helps- _mmmggrrr._"

Her words too broken and pointless to be heard, Tifa instead focused on the remnants of her bed and tried to find anything salvageable in the wreckage. Alas, even the boxes of old purchase orders she kept under the mattress had been reduced to nothing more than smoldering ashes. A quick glance to her right confirmed that the other garment bag, the Wutain's selection, had been left perfectly untouched on the rocking chair by the window. The sight of it began to bring forth a surprisingly tepid bubble of anger, overwhelmed as she was by the fact that it had all been for nothing anyway.

There would be no date tonight. There would be no reason to pin up her hair. No one would be serving her food for once. Luckily, there would be no opportunity to test whether she would have stomached the garment for a night out if it had indeed been the only option. And now she didn't even have a pillow to hug to her chest while wallowing a little in self-pity.

Life was truly harsh sometimes.

Sensing Tifa's disappointment, Cloud stepped in with one, firm hand on Yuffie's shoulder the second she finished coughing.

"I think you better go," he warned quietly, something in his tone implying that it was more a demand than a request.

"You know, _uurgghmmm_, you guys could be a little more sympathetic. I did almost just DIE."

"You _almost_ injured us and the kids and ruined our home and businesses. I think we're even."

"Geez. Just trying to help."

"Well, I think I've received all the help I can handle," Tifa said with a small sigh, anger having dissipated in exchange for full blown dejection.

They passed a few more awkward moments in silence, the barmaid still pointlessly shuffling through ashes, Cloud becoming increasingly uncomfortable as he remembered his state of half-dress, and Yuffie feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically guilty for her rather foolish actions.

She didn't try to explain herself, didn't for once push onto them all the benefits of her little accident. Tonight wasn't about her. And above her desire to be included in the torrid details of their blossoming affair, she truly did want to see her friends happy.

"Look, I'll make it up to you." She knelt by her female friend and put what she hoped was a comforting arm around her shoulder. Tifa had to fight hard to suppress the desire to knock her over. "Free babysitting anytime you need. Okay? Tonight even! I'll go fetch the kids while you finish getting ready and I'll call Barret. He can stay with his oil rigs. You won't have to worry about him being late, as usual."

Before Tifa could inform her that the offer was kind but pointless, Cloud scoffed, causing both women to turn to him wearing expressions of curiosity.

He shifted his stance under their scrutiny, his one good arm automatically rising across his chest in a lame attempt at modesty. "It's just...funny. Because Barret cancelled watching Marlene and Denzel for us tonight. One of the rigs exploded. I was on the phone with him before, trying to get him to reconsider."

"So there you go! It all works out!" Yuffie said brightly, giving her a one armed hug. "And I promise to not set fire to anything!"

It was Tifa's turn to scoff, finding the situation pathetically hilarious. One step forward, two steps back. "Even if I did trust you to take care of the bar, we're not going out. Look at him." She gestured to Cloud with a nod of her head and Yuffie took a moment to scan him from head to toe, completely ignoring the narrowed eyes that begged her to stop.

"You...were in the middle of something?" she suggested, failing to find the explanation in his blatant injuries. Not that Tifa could blame her.

With an annoyed scowl, Cloud turned and headed for the exit. "I'm gonna go get the kids," was his concise explanation. Though Tifa could sense that he felt somehow violated. The thought made her smile a little. But only a little.

"Then we're going straight to the hospital!" she called to his retreating form.

"_Okay_." he yelled back, and in a few seconds the slam of the front door signaled his departure, surely while struggling to get his injured arm back through the sleeve of his sweater.

The second Yuffie assumed they were out of his broad earshot, she forced Tifa sideways to fix her with an incredulous and livid stare. "Are you seriously not going tonight? After everything I've done? After seeing him like _that_?"

Tifa smirked, for some reason proud that another female appreciated his rather breathtaking form. Proud, as much as when pulling off a particularly difficult piano piece, that she had managed to capture such a striking man's attention. Not that it was _attention_ that she wanted, or needed from him most.

"He fell off his bike," she explained while pushing herself onto her feet, heading toward the cupboard for a broom with Yuffie hot on her heels. "He dislocated his shoulder, has about six gashes that need stitches and can barely hold himself up due to blood loss. Tonight is not the night. We're going to reschedule. Plus I need to clean up this mess you made if I want to sleep tonight."

"I can do the stitches. I can make a sling. We have potions to boost vitality. The only reason for going to a hospital would be for narcotics which we both know he doesn't need. AND I'll even clean! This is a once in a lifetime offer!"

Tifa paused then, her hand on the pantry's doorknob, considering. She forgot every once in a while that Yuffie, though young and peppy, was still a nimble fingered war veteran who had many talents beyond thievery and superfluous matchmaking. Though it seemed like fate was throwing them obstacle after obstacle to push this date back, something about their conversation down in the bar made her suddenly as eager as he was to 'get it over with'.

She was sick of waiting, sick of the building pressure, sick of seeing that adoption application of her desk, still incomplete, despite the pressing time limit.

"You do know that if you touch my materia again, I'll have to kill you," she had to warn.

Yuffie held up her hands and snorted, signaling an easy surrender to such terms. "I now know that if I touch your materia again, I'll somehow kill myself."

"And you'll remember that chocolate cake is not a meal? And that I measure the liquor levels every time I close? And that bed time is nine pm?"

"I even remember teeth brushing and nightlights. I'm that good."

Tifa bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, searching desperately for one hint of wicked intentions within the ninja's demeanor. In the end, all she was able to exhume were a few ounces of hope; hope that certain personal fiascos wouldn't ruin what she honestly believed to be destiny, and some absolute determination that this evening to _work_. No matter what.

"He won't like you doctoring him."

"For you, he'll deal," she insisted. And Tifa knew perfectly well that she was right.

When Cloud returned with the shaken though energized kids, pleased as they were with their 'brush with death', he accepted the proposed plan with only the slightest hesitation.

And just like that, against all odds, the dinner was back on.

As he spent an hour locked in the bathroom with Yuffie, Tifa took the opportunity to make herself look as presentable as possible...which meant, seeing as neither sweat shirts nor aprons were an option, the dreaded black garment bag was the only short-notice choice.

How convenient.

With a delicacy that suggested she was in the midst of dismantling a bomb as opposed to revealing a dress, Tifa slowly drew the zipper down, wincing as though blinded by the shine of the fabric.

"Red. Of course," she muttered to herself as the wisp of a garment was slipped free of its hanger. Had it been anyone other than her meant to wear the thing, Tifa would have found it's symbolism comically forward. For they lived in a time where dyes were still a luxury, and only women who lived off the attention they attracted dared to wear such bold shades. It was actually a common joke in their primarily efficient and muted society that _the women in red dresses_ served only as evil distractions. As stepping stones to sin and, eventually, a man's downfall.

One could only imagine what Yuffie, who put much deliberation into everything she organized, was implying by choosing this dress for her. In fact, it made one wonder as to what Vincent had in mind when selecting his rather extravagant costume. But instead of lingering on such disturbing thoughts, Tifa took a deep breath and quickly pulled the thing over her head. Knowing very well that the longer she simply stared at it, the less and less likely it became that she would ever put it on.

A quick glance in the full-length mirror was all she allowed herself once she managed to zip it closed, if only to confirm that the absurd hemline left nothing exposed and the neck was high enough to hide the long, diagonal scar that all her friends knew she preferred to stay hidden.

Every detail remained conveniently on the very cusp of her limits of course. For as many colorful adjectives as she could use to describe the ninja, _stupid_ was definitely not one of them.

Tifa had just finished tying the strap of the matching burgundy sandal, her ballet slippers having also perished in the fire, when the knock came at her door.

Instinctively she groaned, fully expecting an inspection that would include a plea to wear the tiara found in the bottom of the garment bag. An argument she really did not feel like participating in since, with the addition of the heels, she had officially hit her gaudiness maximum.

"Just a sec!" she called, seizing the moment to collect her things to ensure a quick escape. But upon standing, the shoes were found to be just tall and thin enough to guarantee that she couldn't walk properly let alone run. And yet Tifa knew that they too had been chosen with careful deliberation. There would be no choice now but to latch on to the nearest, sturdy figure in order to get from point A to point B.

And she had thought that indecent exposure would be her only concern tonight. Now she had to worry about falling on her face or breaking an ankle possibly _while_ indecently exposing herself.

Great.

"Tifa? Are you ready?"

At the sound of his voice, Tifa froze; the small flutter of butterflies that had been lingering in her stomach suddenly exploding into a swarm that battered against her ribcage.

_'No' _she wanted to answer instinctively. _'No, I'll never be ready for this.'_

But instead she ran her fingers one last time through her hair, taking a moment to caress her mother's pearl drop earring for courage, before making her way to the door.

The hallway was dark and silent as she stepped out of the still charcoal-scented sanctuary of her bedroom, eyes struggling to focus on the shadowed figure leaning on the opposite wall near the staircase. His glowing eyes like a beacon in the seemingly infinite darkness.

The mere sight of him somehow caused the tension to ease in her shoulder and converted the churning in her stomach into a pooling warmth. Especially due to the fact that it seem he too was no exception for Yuffie's meddling.

"She got you too, huh?" Tifa whispered while leaning her back against the threshold and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah," Cloud sighed in a way that was half exasperated, half amused. "Test of limits, I guess."

Despite everything, a grin somehow found its way onto her lips. "She is good at that."

As uncomfortable as she had been with her ensemble, the shock of her clothing was far overshadowed by the fact that Cloud Strife was currently wearing a _suit_. A black one, plainly cut and loosely fit, catered to his preference for dark materials and ease of movement, made remarkable only by the fact that it was _him_ wearing such a garment. Though it was nothing embarrassing formal or overtly stylish (seeing as he probably would have set it on fire, just to make a point), it was still a shock to see him willingly adorn anything other than his SOLDIER standard navy and battle gear. Instead the outfit was accentuated by the bright blue buttoned shirt, just a shade paler than his eyes. Also, ingeniously disguised in a matching black fabric so that she hardly noticed it at first, Cloud's injured arm rested in a camouflaged sling.

The teasing companion in Tifa wanted to make a joke about him planning to join the Turks. The same personae wanted to mock him for daring to move slightly lighter into the color scale. But the Tifa who was now unsteadily standing on impractical shoes and barely covered in a shimmering ruby slip, didn't really have the grounds to critique.

After all, that old Tifa's jokes would have just been covering an expectedly unrequited attraction. And tonight, judging by the way he was staring at her with equal shock and wonder, that was not an issue.

"You look g-" they both began in unison after a lengthy silence, which was spent primarily trying to remember how to keep ones jaw shut. Their eyes, originally glued to each other's unconventional attire, flew up to meet. A beat later, they were both smirking. Albeit softly. Still awkward despite everything. The butterflies is Tifa's stomach not only returned but doubled in size as she realized, to her extreme disappointment, how much she really didn't want to move.

Despite the mirrored relief at having finally arrived at this moment, there was something indisputably _odd _ about standing there with him - a cumulative discomfort resulting from their unfinished conversation earlier, the formal clothes that neither felt relaxed wearing and, of course, the suffocating expectations. Not to mention the natural anxiety of leaving Yuffie in charge of all their earthly possessions for a few hours.

Earlier Cloud had referred to this night sort of like a dentist appointment. But if she were to be brutally honest, it now felt more like waiting in line, naked, before a shower stall that may very well be a gas chamber.

"We should...go." Cloud stated after a couple seconds of restless silence, gesturing to the stairs beside him.

"Yeah," Tifa agreed, and yet made no move to leave the security of her threshold.

As if reading her mind, his brows furrowed, apparently having come to her same horrifying conclusion. One minute into their date and they could already tell that this just wasn't going to work. She was about to throw in the towel, about to give him the 'we can still be friends' speech, but then he said possibly the only thing in the world that could make her give it a shot.

"I think we need a drink."

At this, Tifa wholeheartedly agreed.

That was how, with his help shakily descending the stairs in her heels, they ended up at the bar pouring healthy doses of that vintage Corel wine she had been saving for a special occasion. They clinked glasses and each took lengthy sips, happy at having a distraction for their lips.

It explained how, five minutes into their date, she was finally feeling warm and loose enough to poke fun at the ridiculousness of their clothing; as if they were costumes for Yuffie staging one of her cheesy romance stories involving a Turk and his lady of the night. And Cloud had laughed, even though he so rarely laughed, in complete agreement

It was nine minutes and another glass later that she decided they had been socially lubricated enough to venture out in public and perhaps even have a good time together, linked by mutual embarrassment.

And it was ten minutes in, while leaning on his arm for support in her shoes, that the pervasive swarm of butterflies residing in her stomach suddenly turned to wasps.

Out of all the potential endings this evening could have had, out of the kaleidoscope of her possible reactions he had played through in his head, the one that followed was definitely the least expected.

He was just glad she hadn't ruined anything he intended to wear ever again.

* * *

Later, when leaning back into the pillows after vainly attempting to spit the horrid taste from her mouth, Tifa forced herself to seek some humor in the situation.

It was the only way to deal with the near immobilizing embarrassment and loss of faith.

The _ochu_ flu; Yuffie, in all her medical wisdom, had diagnosed her state. An immobilizing, stomach attacking virus that had been going around town for weeks. Tifa had known of its existence of course, what with several of her customers donning surgical masks in an attempt to spare themselves. But she had casually waved away the precautious, trusting that her rigorous hygiene standards and optimal health would no doubt inspire the sickness to avoid her and her family's systems. As it always had in years past.

"You're kinda like a martyr now," Yuffie had joked as she helped pack up some of Marlene and Denzel's belongings earlier. "Like, the proof that _no one is immune_! People will think twice about antiseptic soaps now, I tell ya. And we'll all profit in the end!"

Tifa somehow failed to resemble anything close to enthusiastic.

Considering her luck lately, she shouldn't have been as surprised as she was that she had been hit tonight of all nights. But still, one couldn't help but be awed and impressed by just how badly this date had gone: like a _reversed_ version of the typical fairy tale.

Her elegant burgundy dress and heels had been replaced by a grey and blue plaid, flannel pajama, now damp with sweat. Her long, previously clean hair was pulled back into a tangled ponytail at the nape of her neck, sprinkled with crumbs of the biscuits she had attempted to force down earlier. And the dinner, Cloud's meticulously planned date event which was revealed to be a catered picnic on a nearby grass patch overlooking the city (such an unexpectedly inventive move from him that she would have surely enjoyed!), was left there to be garnered by some fortunate scavengers.

Instead she was spending her Friday night huddled in his cot, back to the cold cement wall, with a bucket strategically pinched between her knees to catch all impending bile attacks.

"Urrrggg," she moaned to herself, feeling the nausea buoying in her throat, teasing her with relief only to send her retching into the bucket a mere second later.

A fairy-tale princess indeed.

At her insistence, the children had moved to Yuffie's rented apartment for a few days to avoid catching her plague and Cloud had gone to help them settle in. The only comfort she could take without even her own bed for refuge, was that at least there was no one to witness her misery. At least she could sit here, unmoving, for the next day or two and, maybe, get some paperwork done. Or perhaps plan a tidy, efficient suicide. That is if she stopped throwing up long enough to find a proper length of rope...

_"I'm back."_A voice suddenly called from below followed by the clumsily loud slam of the door, telling of a one-armed, debilitated user.

Tifa groaned and sunk her head further into the bucket, listening with a heavy heart to his stomping footsteps climbing the stairs.

"I thought I told you to stay at Yuffie's." she yelled weakly toward the general direction of the corridor. "We'll be in trouble if we both get sick! Not to mention, you _do not_ want to feel like this."

"I'll risk it." Cloud entered the room with a certain bounce to his step that was a tad too chipper considering the situation. He still wore the blue buttoned shirt Yuffie had forced him into, but had ditched the ruined suit blazer for one of his leather motorcycle jackets; creating a surprisingly gorgeous hybrid ensemble that made her feel a thousand times more disgusting in comparison. "Besides, I don't get sick."

At this, Tifa laughed meekly. "Neither do I."

"No. I mean, I can't get sick. Not by airborne viruses anyway." He began bustling about the room, opening drawers and crinkling paper bags all beyond her bucket edge's line of sight. "Mako cells strangle them before they can reproduce. One of the few good side effects. Here."

She lifted her head only long enough to acknowledge the bottle of sheer pink liquid and capsule pills offered before shaking it 'no'.

"I don't trust modern drugs," she snapped at him, unreasonably annoyed that he dared forget.

"I know. Neither do I," he in turn reminded her. Tifa cringed, noting that he had far more reason to avoid prescriptions than she did. Her mood was one of the primary reasons she had sent everyone away. Being sick made her short tempered and cranky, a side of herself she never wanted the kids especially to witness.

"I'm sorry..." she mumbled while running a hand through her sweat soaked bangs, unexpectedly on the brink of tears. How she hated being this pathetic. How she hated him seeing her so pathetic. "I'm just...I'm so..."

"I know. I mean, I get it. It's okay. Here." He offered his wares again, turning the bottle so that the label of Shin-Wei's health food store on the outskirts of Edge showed. "Its salad water and an vitamin supplement. You need to keep your strength up if you want a chance at fighting this thing off naturally."

Without waiting for a reply he one-handedly unscrewed the cap of the bottle and dropped the pill into her hand, taking a moment to coil her fingers around both items just in case she hadn't the energy to do so herself. And also to hint that she had little choice but to consume them.

True to her foul mood, her original impulse was to chastise him for treating her like an invalid child. But then she noted the bottle's label again, then the clock on his nightstand and then the large bag of various natural remedies that had been placed on his desk. It was 11pm and she knew that the naturalist store owner Shin-Wei closed early and didn't have a phone. Which meant...

"Cloud?" she asked quietly, fixing him with her patented motherly stare of disapproval. "Did you just ROB the health food store?"

The corner of his lip turned up ever so slightly, an expression that never failed to make her heart pound loudly in her ears.

"It's not robbing if you leave gil," he insisted while coaxing her laden hand upward toward her lips. With only the faintest hesitation, Tifa popped the vitamin into her mouth and drank, deeming his little crime to be worth getting the kids back in their beds sooner rather than later. The salad water was disgusting, as expected. And yet it didn't make her instantly throw up as everything else she had attempted consume. A definite good sign.

After finishing the bottle, Tifa was pleased to announce that she did indeed feel somewhat better. Though it was probably more mental than physical. So she leaned back into the pillows with a groan of relief. Confident than she had become slightly less mean and gross, her eyes finally darted to Cloud who now sitting on the edge of the cot. He had been watching her the entire time, that same almost imperceptible grin gracing his features.

"Just so you know, I don't condone burglary," she carefully informed him, even though her matching smirk did little to support the words. "But still...thank you."

"You would have done the same for me."

And he was perfectly right.

They sat in silence for a few moments more, not in awkwardness, but just basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company. Happy at being together, alone for once, and silently confirming that there was nowhere else they rather be.

Without needing permission, Cloud climbed onto the cot and placed himself beside her on the pillows. And she in turn, without for once wondering if touching him was okay, knew to lean her head on his good shoulder, closing her eyes, not caring that she surely smelled like a rotting malboro. At that moment, she really didn't care.

"You know what?" Cloud asked quietly as the fingers of his non-slung hand slowly crawled forward to entwine with hers. "This...is the best date I've ever had."

Tifa laughed then. Knowing that he was making a joke referring to the fact that this was the _only_ real date he had ever had and therefore also the worst. But it was good to hear anyway.

"The picnic was a good idea," she decided to add as a side note, mourning their anticipated evening. "It would have been...nice. Sitting there under the stars, sharing a meal with you. Just the two of us."

"It is nice," he whispered, smirking against her hair. "It's what we're doing now."

Tifa's eyes blinked open.

Though flannel replaced silk, though salad water took the form of what was meant to be an actual salad, though she had lost her ability to stand and he the ability to use both arms, though almost everything that could have possibly gone wrong did go wrong, still they had ended up here, in his room, content and not-unpleasantly delirious.

They had intended to take an important step forward tonight. And now, against all odds, she found they had taken several. He having easily and _naturally_ fallen into the role of the devoted partner and caretaker.

An important step indeed...but still, regrettably, not one of the ones she most wanted to discover tonight...

In the same instant, she raised her head while he shifted positions, both silently agreeing that it was time to test a new boundary, that tonight had succeeded in convincing both of them that there was no way to go but forward. Despite how much more painful it would make the fall.

He released her hand to shimmy her sick bucket from her knees and place it on the floor, an action that was so very disgusting and yet exciting as it most plainly confirmed his intentions. The hand returned to place itself gently on the side of her neck, and she was somewhat comforted by the fact that it was quivering as badly as hers were.

Cloud Strife was nervous. She could tell by his eyes, when they finally met hers, which spoke volumes of his various concerns. And to her relief, the fact that she hadn't yet brushed her teeth wasn't among them. Instead, they consisted of strangely typical male worries, things she had never thought such a notoriously tough person would fret about. Like the SOLDIER he was, he took the time to analyze the situation, debating whether it was better to move in on the right or to the left, how long it should last, what to do with his hand, what to say afterward.

He took so long deliberating that Tifa, true to her still sick and frustrated mood, quickly lost her patience.

"I should probably get some sleep," she announced in a tight, slightly incensed tone while slumping further into the pillows away from him. To her extreme annoyance, Cloud's only reaction was an obvious release of tension from his entire body. She tried not to let it get to her, especially because she most probably didn't want her first case of projectile vomiting to coincide with her memories of her and Cloud's first kiss. It was for the best. Really.

"Besides," she added, rolling away onto her back with a sigh so that she could stare at the ceiling and not the irritating relief in his eyes. "You said you're not infected by _airborne_ viruses. To be safe you should probably not-"

She never got a chance to finish the question. Having found a preferred approach in her new position, Cloud seized the opportunity like the disciplined veteran that he was, not striking until the moment was right, until he was sure that it would achieve the best possible result.

And yet, still, he went in slowly, leaning down on her from above, eyes initially open and focused on the target of her lips, brushing against them once, tilting the angle of his head a little then repeating. Trial and error and still tortuously perfect in every way.

Finally, after finding an advance that suited him, he dared to put a little pressure and at the same time the hand that had been on her neck went to seek a new haven, travelling across her collar bone, and over to cup her shoulder. Other than that, he didn't move for a long while, his lips seemingly frozen in the shock of where they had ended up and what they were feeling as a result; a confusing mix of terror and exhilaration. And Tifa, afraid of alarming the evident deliberation he was putting into this event, didn't dare do anything but receive. In truth, she hadn't the mental capacity to do much else.

They remained still for long seconds that stretched into an eternity. Neither drawing breath for fear of interrupting this perfect tableau of a moment; one that was far from heated or the clichéd "knee-weakening". Contrary to those more common responses, Tifa instead felt increasingly stronger, more stable with every passing millisecond. The insistent pressure of his lips like a gentle stamp on the application of their potential relationship; an elaborately decorated, freshly-inked seal of approval that was slowly drying into permanence.

This was the feeling she had been daydreaming about since she was old enough to notice boys. Not just because it was Cloud, for he had admittedly not always been a star player in her fantasies. And not because kisses had been so rare in her life, for she had her pathetic though still notable share of experience in that realm. It was the dream of being kissed by _anyone_, even so simply and in less than ideal circumstances, and feeling this rush of ultimate contentment. As if you suddenly knew with absolute certainty that you would be strong and beautiful and loved for the rest of your life, the logic of such a belief was to be damned.

And when he eventually pulled away, the sensation remained. Lingering like an energy pulse beneath the entire surface of her skin, so forceful that she wondered for while if it was a sincere emotional reaction or merely a physical side effect of coming into such intimate contact with his mako infused cells.

Either way...it was _invigorating._ Like elixir transfused directly into her veins.

Intense.

"Tifa?" came his whispering voice a few seconds later, sounding inexplicably far away even though she felt the breath of his words on her cheek. "Teef? You okay?"

Her eyelids eventually fluttered open, and the breath she didn't realize she had been holding released. The first thing she saw were his brilliant eyes, more green than blue in the dim light and crinkled at the corners as a relieved smile spread across his face. An expression she could not help but mirror giddily.

"Yeah," she murmured in response to the question. "I'm..." Tifa's brows furrowed, struggling to find a proper adjective (Comfortable? Floating? Happy? Safe? Home?) but none, not even all of them, could properly define it. And so she settled with "good.", confident that he would somehow deduce what she truly meant.

After a moment's consideration he nodded, his hand having finally found purchase in hers once more.

"...Good."

Without another word, both celebrated fighters shimmied themselves horizontally onto a cot much too small for two people and quickly fell into the best sleep either of them had ever had.

The next morning, when the kids and Yuffie returned to check on them, an unexpectedly cheery and healthy Tifa ushered them in the door. While upstairs the faint sound of someone being violently ill echoed throughout the corridor.

Once the ninja (the only one knowledgeable on how germs spread in mako victims) got over her giggle fit, Cloud was quick to assure everyone, after choking down a bottle of salad water, that it had most definitely been worth it.

* * *

In the end, it had been easy.

Easier than she had ever thought possible.

Like she, Cloud overcame the flu quickly. And by mid afternoon it was a regular Saturday at 7th Heaven.

She had slid the application over as soon as he joined them at the lunch table, needing to get it over with despite the odd timing. Yuffie and the kids kindly pretended not to notice, but the tension in the room was palpable. That is, before he acted.

There were no words, no awkward hesitation. This was what he wanted all along. It was what they all needed.

He quickly scrawled his name the required six times on various pages in the stack of paper, folded them up and immediately headed for the door.

Less than twenty-four hours after their first and, so far only, kiss, and Tifa and Cloud became official partners, registered applicants for joint custody at the WRO.

It was more of a giant leap than a little step. But, for whatever reason, and to her extreme relief, that fact no longer scared Tifa.

She had finally realized and accepted what their friends and family and coworkers and apparently the entire city of Edge had long foreseen;

That it had only been a matter of time.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Wow. This was my best and most fruitful batch of reviews yet! I checked my email for two seconds while borrowing the computer at my New York hotel lobby, and saw it was flooded with alerts :D. I decided then and there that a swift update was definitely warranted, and it was my number one priority the second I got home.

This was, technically, the second half of the previous chapter that I had to cut due to ridiculous length, with some added fluff to amuse. Also, I forgot last chapter to give praise to reader Mistress9ine, who made this beautiful fanart of Tifa in her (R.I.P.) yellow silk dress.

Please check it out at http:/ /bechedor79.d eviantart.c om/art/Strange-Heroes-155555789 (you have to delete the spaces in the address due to fanfiction's auto no-linking).

Looking forward to writing the next few chapters. Thank you all so much for your continued support!

- May


	10. Something New

"_The only thing we know about the future is that it will be different__.__**" **_

**- Peter Drucker**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter X:_ Something New_

"Hmm...No," Tifa said, releasing yet another disappointed sigh. "That's not right either."

"Oh, come_ ON_!" In an exaggerated gesture of exhaustion, Marlene growled while throwing herself backwards onto the mattress. She then proceeded to bury herself under a mound of frilly show-pillows which she drew tightly around her head to muffle a series of tortured shrieks, to which Tifa could not help but roll her eyes.

Though, as a mother, she was eternally grateful for Marlene's high-grade maturity, it also made the few times she acted her age that much more theatrical. As shown in exhibit A; a tantrum that may cost her dearly seeing as the salesperson was wincing with every dirt-booted kick against the costly comforter.

"Oh for the love of...Calm down!" she chastised while attempting to pull her daughter to her feet. But the girl was seemingly lost among a sea of lace and rosebuds. "There are only a few more models to test. We'll be home soon."

"_Buf_ _we'fe been here __**forefer**__!"_

"We've only been here, in this store specifically, for an hour. So please relax. Need I remind you that it was _your_ choice to come along with me."

The key pillow was tugged free, finally revealing the mussed hair and frustrated expression lurking beneath. Eyebrows furrowed in a way that made her seem way beyond her six years.

"You said _shopping_. You didn't say _bed_ shopping. Possibly the most _boring_ thing ever."

"Well, what did you think I was going out to get? Toys? Candy? A pony?"

"Hmph." Marlene's arms rose to cross themselves over her chest, giving herself a consolation hug for the precious play time that was currently being squandered. "Why do you even need to replace your bed anyway? Don't you and Cloud sleep together now?"

"Marlene!" Instantly, Tifa felt her cheeks begin to burn as she glanced up to the sales clerk, hoping against all hope that he had miraculously become deaf. Alas, the small smirk on his lips proved otherwise, inspiring her to smack a hand to her forehead in embarrassment.

"It's not what it-" she began to explain, then stopped herself. Too tired to bother. They had indeed been in this store, and preceding stores, testing frames and mattresses and sheets and pillows for what legitimately seemed to be **forever**. And as unappealing as the idea was of spending yet another night on the cramped cot (an inevitable rough night's sleep despite the company of its other occupant), the fact remained that some part of her subconscious was obviously stalling.

For this outing marked day three of her search for a replacement due to Yuffie's little "accident" a few short nights ago. And though it was meant to be a quick trip, having never been a stickler for aesthetics or thread counts, it wasn't long before she began to realize how something once private and insignificant had suddenly become a platform for sending a crucial message.

The original plan had been simple; find the cheapest, quality piece closest to her original set up, and get out. Hers had been a twin bed, medium quality mattress, with a second-hand quilt and sheet set covered in faded, purple daisies. Easily enough, upon her first ten minutes of searching, she had found many qualified replicas. But as she lay there testing its springiness, the miniscule frame suddenly seemed constricting. Definitely much too small for Cloud's lengthy limbs. And the purple flowers? Not that he would probably care, but she imagined a solid navy set would suit his preference for dark simplicity, as well as look best wrapped around his pale form in the morning light.

The unexpected inclusion of him in the decision almost made her choke on her own saliva. For it was tad presumptuous to assume that they would continue to spend their nights together once the furniture was replaced. Her presence in his room could merely be a temporary kind gesture, like offering to share an umbrella during a storm. Pure politeness from someone who was known to relish their solitude.

She left the store in a huff that day, to the complete mystification of the kind and patient owner, and decided to try again tomorrow. After another uncomfortable yet exhilarating night's sleep in his arms.

The nights _almost_ made up for the lengthy, aching and weary days. Especially the way in which, for the hour preceding bed time, the air seemed to cackle with invisible electricity. How a once monotonous chore of brushing her teeth became a somehow stirring prequel. Recently, in what she hoped Cloud would assume was 'convenience', she had switched to taking her showers in the evening and always remembered to leave her damp hair down instead of braided, silently encouraging the way he would sometimes thread his fingers through. She loved knocking on his door and seeing him there under the covers, waiting. She loved the way her heart beat rose with every step, the way he held out his hand, the warmth of him as she settled in. So thrilling, yet so natural. Completely innocent, and yet sensuous. Friends sharing a bunk for convenience, as well as lovers slowly penetrating new boundaries

But were those breached limits meant to be a permanent step forward? She still had no clue.

This debate continued into the next day when a Queen mattress caught her eye. One that was accentuated by soft, dark cotton sheets that felt like silk beneath her finger tips. The set had been expensive of course. Hardly worth wasting the gil on a still unanswered question, as it would make her intentions painfully obvious. Would such a purchase make him feel awkward? Appreciated? Annoyed? Pressured?

She decided then that she needed a second opinion, but had yet to scrounge up the courage to ask the person to whom it mattered most. And so, upon reflection, perhaps she had been a little too persuasive in getting Marlene to join her today, the third day of the search. But the after effects of multiple nights spent on the cot were keeping a constant pressurized reminder on her sore spine, pushing her into getting it over with. As soon as possible. Three mornings now she had set out, determination etched into her features. Two afternoons, so far, she had returned empty handed and exasperated.

And today it seemed, as she watched Marlene continued to scowl from her mattress base, it would be another fruitless attempt. She was simply not ready to decide yet.

Besides, what harm could one more restless night do?

"You win!" she exclaimed with an exaggerated breath, hands in the air to signify surrender. "I guess I'll just have to come back tomorrow. You're open at ten, right?"

"Yes m'amm." The salesman nodded, that annoyingly amused smirk still lingering on his lips. "I, personally, am not working but I'll write Jadena a note on where you're at. She is more than qualified to take over."

"Fine, fine. It's all fi-_ouf!_"

"THANK YOU TIFA!" in one bounding leap, Marlene had suddenly sprung into her arms with a vicious hug, temporarily knocking the wind out of her and causing her to reconsider the supple mattress brand. "I promise I'll clean up allllll my toys when we get home. I'll even not fight with Denzel for what movie to watch tonight!"

After a few raspy breaths, Tifa laughed and patted the girl affectionately on the back.

"Sounds great."

* * *

"We're hoooommmmmeee!" the shorter of the pair announced in a sing-song voice as they entered the bar, instantly kicking off her boots. "And we got ice creaaammmm!"

"Which is for AFTER dinner," her guardian insisted, turning to bolt the door as Marlene sprinted upstairs to enlighten her brother on flavor types. Tifa took off her own shoes, hung her keys on the hook behind the bar and made sure the refrigerated groceries she had compulsively purchased as an apology were properly stored, all before finally plopping herself down on the couch for some much needed time off her feet.

Above her she could heard the little girl's hurried footsteps exploring the upstairs rooms. Into the office, out into the hall, into her bedroom, out again into the hall and beyond. She briefly wondered where Cloud and Denzel were hiding in order to make the girl wander, but the concern dissolved as she welcomed the house's rare state of tranquility.

"Gods you are comfortable," she murmured to the furniture's fabric, leisurely running her hand up and down its length. As she had already done almost every night this past week, Tifa again debated squatting in the living room instead of robbing both she and Cloud of their precious few hours sleep. And as always, especially after such a grueling day and while basking in the glory of being able to lie fully on her back, the thought was tempting indeed.

But before should could even begin to seriously consider logistics, the option was already dropped. For tomorrow she was buying a new bed. No more procrastination allowed. Which would make tonight, possibly, their last _excused_ night together; such a exceptional indulgence that she wouldn't trade for the sleeping quarters of a king.

As if in revolt, the throbbing in her spine suddenly and intensely increased, forcing her to bite down a piercing wince.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. This will end badly," she mumbled to herself while shimmying further into the cushions, desperately trying to find a comfortable position. "Just...one more. You can do it. One more night."

"One more night what?"

Startled, Tifa attempted to spring to her feet but was interrupted mid-way by a loud crack emanating from somewhere on her body.

From above her, Cloud cringed. "That...didn't sound good."

"And it felt like it sounded," she responded through tight lips, slowly lowering herself back down into the cushions.

After putting down his shopping bags, Cloud quickly swooped in to help. Kneeling beside the couch, he leaned over and took the weight of her torso with his hands on her back, slowly lowering her into a relax position.

Their eyes met as her fingers clenched onto his shoulders for support, seeking and easily finding there the heartbreakingly sincere concern for her wellbeing. She tried to tell him, to assure that everything would be fine, but a fresh wave a pain forced her to bite back the words and she instead clung tighter, needing the paltry though remarkable comfort that his mere presence provided.

"You shouldn't open the bar tonight if you're in this much pain," he rationalized after she was finally settled horizontally.

In response, after a few deep breaths the quell the nausea, Tifa carefully shook her head. "We can't afford to. Tuesdays are pay day for the building crews. Great tips. Besides, I'll be fine in a few minutes. Must have just pulled something."

"You haven't been sleeping well." It was a statement, not a question. His expression firm and a little guilty. "You need a night off to catch up. I'll ask Yuffie to run the bar."

"Ha! Like Yuffie will just-"

"She owes us and I'll supervise. Besides," he took a moment then, casually, to brush a few stray hairs off her forehead. A gesture, one of the few, that reminded her that their relationship had changed recently, and there was no longer any need to pretend to be stronger than she actually was. "And I've been thinking about this for a while now. The bar gets busy enough recently. Have you ever considered formally training someone for part-time help?"

Tifa laughed at this, even though she wasn't exactly sure why. The thought had simply never occurred to her because it had always seemed so ridiculous. _Paying_ someone to do something she was perfectly capable of doing herself, wasting such a chunk of the profits - well, it seemed to be the equivalent of throwing that gil down the drain. Gil that should be spent on Marlene and Denzel's futures.

As if reading her thoughts, Cloud interrupted the moment she opened her mouth to voice these reasons. "Between prepping the food service, teaching the kids, serving at the bar six nights a week as well as taking care of the house and all of us, you're working eighteen hours, seven days a week."

"You're exagerra-"

"No, I'm not exaggerating. You're going to wear yourself out at this rate, what with Denzel's lesson becoming more complex and the sudden rise in customers. And you wanted to expand the menu right? Take advantage of the jump in general salaries thanks to the WRO's construction projects? Maybe add lunch?"

"Lunch? I can't add-"

"You can if you hired servers and concentrated on the food. You could prep all day once the kids start school and then have your nights off, while still increasing profits."

"Cloud..."

"Just..." he took a deep breath to settle himself, her current disabled state rendering him unexpectedly passionate regarding the subject of change. With a sigh, his gloved hand moved downward to cup her cheek, mindlessly drawing circles with his thumb. He knew that Tifa was the most resilient person, let alone woman, that he had ever met. Back in the day, he wouldn't have bated an eye while sending her off on potential suicide missions, trusting that she could handle herself. He wondered what had changed, what chemical composition had rearranged itself in his brain these past few days, to suddenly make her seem so fragile. As if the slightest injury, from scuffing her knee to breaking a few bones, would make him want to rip out his heart and feed it to the behemoths.

Strange. But not all in a bad way.

"Just...think about it. Okay? I...I hate seeing you like this."

"Mmhmm...Sure..." As though his touch had healing powers, Tifa found herself feeling suddenly warm and happy and safe and confident. As if dreams could come true, money didn't matter, and as long as they were together, that everything would somehow end up fine. "I'll _think_ about it," she promised with a smirk. "Once the kids start school."

"Good. I'm glad," he responded, his lips curving ever so slightly into a delicate grin.

It began then. One of those tense yet exciting moments that were slowly becoming more and more frequent. A rare timing when they were completely alone, having nothing more to say, the air between them charged. She watched, riveted, as his eyes briefly flicked down to her lips. A silent question if it was okay. She almost laughed, amused that he had yet to grasp the concept that it was always _more_ than okay.

Four night now they had spent together, four days basking in the discomfited yet exhilarating glow of a new relationship. Every look lasted forever. Every touch was shiver-worthy. And their kisses? Cloud acted as if they were each a separate epic occasion; a strange yet not unappreciated method that, once experienced, she wouldn't have desired in any other way. Always the timid gentleman, he preferred to wait for privacy, quiet and opportunity for build up. She had quickly learned that he was not the type of man who gave goodbye pecks before leaving for the day. If and only if he felt it was necessary, if she had woken up too late that morning or they had been too tired or busy the night before or he simply felt a intense compulsion to do it again, it would be prepared for first. Like a card game takedown. One at a time, the kids or any visitors would be assigned conveniently far away tasks. If her position at that moment was deemed to be too public, a quick tug on her wrist would prompt her to follow him. Sometimes behind a door, or into the pantry, or (as was the case with Sunday's visit to the park) behind a public restroom structure. A spot, to her utter abhorrence, that would now always be stuck in her head as the place she first noticed their resemblance to a real, traditional family.

Their messy date had only been two days prior. Since then the adoption papers had been handed in directly to Reeve by Cloud and as a result, in addition to the slight change in their relationship that it now involved kissing, and she felt she had become, gratuitously, invincible. As if nothing could ever go wrong. Even though it was still very likely that things could.

The only explanation was that, perhaps, she was in love. And not the miserable, deprived, desperate kind for once, but the normal, comfortable, and slightly stupid kind. The kind of love you didn't have to scrape to hold on to, but grew steadily as a new, un-encumbering piece to your body. The piece you had never known that you had always been missing.

Something about that Sunday, family day, running around the playground together with Marlene and Denzel, the weather bright and sunny on the outskirts of Edge. When he kissed her after tricking the kids into an extended hide and seek marathon and finding solitude in the shadows...

That day, behind the bathroom stalls, everything felt, for lack of a better word...complete.

It was way too soon to say of course. But she was reassured by thinking it anyway. The fact that it was on the tip of her tongue every time he looked at her like he was doing now, gave her a strange sense of accomplishment. As did the knowledge that this was only the beginning. And it could only get better.

She watched through hooded eyes as he went through his usual, torturous preparations. Sweeping away her hair, tracing her jaw, angling her head upwards, his eyes beginning to glow ever so slightly, gradually becoming more mako-green than sapphire-blue. As subtle as the reaction was, she had asked him recently if he knew why it happened, she being a dedicated student in all things Cloud related. He had laughed awkwardly then and rolled onto his back, flinging an arm across his eyes in mortification. It was a pulse/adrenaline thing, he eventually confessed. He used to notice it occurring in other SOLDIERs when training, but up until that moment had never realized it happened to him as well.

The glow was a reaction to increased blood flow, anticipation and excitement which animated the mako cells within him, temporarily increasing power and stamina. Basically igniting a hidden battle reserve of energy. In a moment of complete idiocy, Tifa almost asked why such an intense reaction arose when he was alone with her and not fighting, but stopped herself just in time. And so she closed the conversation with a very poignant "oh." and they never felt the need to discuss it again.

Since then, in these occasions when the green glow inevitably began to dominate his irises, the air would become much more thick and sweet. And though it may not have been as visually obvious, she was sure Cloud's enhanced senses could pick up the changes in her as well. Her heartbeat increasing, the beads of sweat, the sudden tenseness in her knees. If he had ever thought to be embarrassed after having revealed the glow's source, it never mattered once he began to smell the mirrored eagerness on her in response. In the end, his strange abilities revealed both their usually hidden contemplations to each other, adding to the intensity of this rather sinless act.

Kissing Cloud was never **just** a kiss after all.

After a full minute of priming, full-bright eyes boring into hers with purpose, he finally began to lean forward. His slowness was excruciating, as usual. And the only thing keeping her from pulling him forward were the memories of how much better it became after those final few millimeters and the knowledge that he needed this extra time to conquer his many anxieties regarding this newfound intimacy. Still, she felt as if she had been starving for this moment all day, and was close to salivating after having it teasingly waved in front of her like this.

He was so close now, she could feel his breath on her lips. While still debating whether or not to push things a little further this time, a prequel for their last "hassel-free" night together, the decision was unexpectedly settled by Cloud as he shifted to apply a little more of his weight, chest to chest and pressing her into the couch cushions. He was feeling it too, she assumed. A strange, compulsive need to be slightly closer than previously.

"Tifa," he whispered, brushing parted lips against hers. "Tifa..."

"TIFA!"

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. His insanely quick reflexes having picked up the footsteps before the intruder actually entered, allowing him to jump up and into a far away chair just as an exuberant Denzel burst into the room.

Tifa was dumbstruck, lying motionless on the couch with her hands still in the air where they had once been on his shoulders, even as her son swooped to her side while waving a stack of paper in her face.

"I got the mail for you! All by myself!" the boy announced with a wide smile. After taking a deep breath to compose herself, Tifa moved to sit up, careful not to upset her still-sensitive back as she did so.

"That's...great sweetie," she muttered, trying her hardest to hide the disappointment in her voice. She was torn between scolding Cloud for sending their young son out by himself at this time of night, or for not sending him far away enough. But one glance toward where he sat, his wide eyes still glowing furiously from the dark corner, legs crossed and a hand over his mouth, proved that he was sufficiently punishing himself.

"There you guys are!" Marlene, having finalized a complete tour of the other rooms, returned to plop herself next the Tifa on the couch. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Where did you go? And what did you do to Tifa's room?"

"My room?" Tifa asked in confusion. "What happened to my room?"

"We just went to the hardware store," Denzel explained in a tone that seemed exasperated. "Cloud said that we had to fix the burns on the hardwood floor planks before Tifa got her new bed in. We sanded it, but Cloud said it wasn't nice-looking enough. So we tore them up and went to find replacements, but Cloud didn't like the stains they had in stock." He groaned and rolled his eyes, shooting his male guardian an annoyed look reminiscent of the one Marlene gave Tifa in the bedding store. "So we bought some raw pine which we now have to shape _and_ varnish ourselves! It's gonna take forever!"

"Hmm. Is that so?" Intrigued, Tifa swung her legs off the couch, giving a space for Denzel to sit beside her as well so that all three could stare the apparently picky contractor down. "You do know that I didn't fix the floor because it's only a little spot _under_ my bed, right? No one's ever going to see it."

Across the room, eyes having since dimmed to their normal ethereal blue, Cloud only shrugged. "I'd know it's there. It would bother me. And what if you wanted to, I dunno...rearrange things in the future?"

"Rearrange...things?" she repeated poignantly, causing her target to sigh in annoyance but remain otherwise silent.

The unspoken conclusion of this event was that Cloud too, for whatever reason, was stalling. The unnecessarily complicated renovations guaranteed that even if she had been brave enough to purchase something today, there wouldn't have been the place to set it up. Forcing another night together. She was about to make a mental note to tease him about this later, but then Marlene inconveniently decided to even the odds.

"Oh, that's nothing," she insisted with a snort. "Tifa took me to FIVE different bed stores today, where we tested every. single. mattress! There were over ten thousand, I swear! And she STILL didn't like anything enough-"

"Yes, yes. We're evil people for wanting to keep a nice house for you two. We get it," Tifa interrupted with mock irritability, ignoring what was sure to be a haughty smirk from across the room. "How about we get some dinner in you guys and then- _ssss!_"

Having forgotten for a second her still sore back, Tifa had stood up too soon and seemingly double-pulled the already throbbing muscle, if such a thing were possible. Cloud was immediately at her side, directing the kids up and way so that he could once again lay her down.

"Are you okay Tifa?" Came Marlene's anxious voice hovering above her once Cloud had moved away.

"I'm fine sweetie. Just...had a long day. We've all had a long day."

"I'm calling Yuffie. No buts." Cloud insisted, his phone already in his hand and dialing. And Tifa, for once, felt no desire to argue. "Marlene, Denzel. Could you heat up some soup for us all?"

"Course!" they responded in unison before scurrying away towards the kitchen.

Once they were out of sight, Cloud dared to lean forward to place a quick kiss on her forehead while balancing something light on top of her folded hands.

"Feel better," he whispered before striding away, the phone clamped to his ear.

And she did. Almost instantly.

For the paper he had handed over, one of the pieces of mail that Denzel had brought home, it was from the WRO adoption board. The residents of 7th Heaven had been assigned a new interview date and interviewer, selected by Reeve himself, a mere two weeks from now. Just in time for the census papers to be completed and avoiding any need for the children to spend even a second within the walls of a dire orphanage.

Maybe it was delusion brought on by exhaustion and pain, but in that moment, as she re-folded the letter, Tifa had not one inkling of doubt that they would be accepted. For who would dare to disrupt a family so clearly_ complete_?

And with those pleasant thoughts in mind, she easily drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Tifa awoke just as the first beams of sunlight began streaking over the horizon, and instantly began to panic. Not only because she was still stationed in the unfamiliar living room area, nor because someone had somehow removed her vest and apron during the night. But because it was Wednesday. Market day. And she was so very late.

"Dammit!" she screeched while kicking off the blankets that had been placed upon her and grabbing the discarded garments draped over the back of the sofa. There was no time shower or even eat. The best of the week's produce deliveries had probably already been plucked and if she left now she just might be spared some scraps.

Having managed to snatch her mangled cart off its hook while sprinting through the kitchen, she was in the midst of pulling an arm through her vest when she ran straight into a solid body standing just inside the bar doors. Cloud, up early as he always was on Wednesdays to prepare coffee for her return. It took him a moment, but the reason for her hurrying eventually registered. As did the fact that it was his fault for not wanting to wake or move her last night, or think to set an alarm.

"I'll come with you," he quickly decided. "We'll take Fenrir. It'll be faster."

"No. It's fine. Plus, the kids-"

"Yuffie's still here from closing," he gestured toward a pair of laced booted feet that stuck out from behind the other end of the bar. "She'll watch them. Ditch the cart, we'll buy rucksacks."

Terrified of disappointing her customers with sub-quality produce, Tifa saw no choice but to agree. After a quick kick to rouse the ninja and inform her of her new task, she exited the bar door just as he was pulling up on the infamously intricate motorcycle. Not wanting to waste time in stopping, she immediately sprinted toward it and somersaulted onto the back seat before he had even begun to slow down.

"Go. Now. Fast," she instructed while wrapping her arms around his waist. Cloud allowed himself a proud smirk, amused and impressed as he always was with her death-defying acrobatics, before revving the engine and gunning it toward the train station.

Soon enough, thanks to the minutes saved by taking Fenrir, it was like every other Wednesday's shopping excursion. Except...it wasn't at all.

Her favorite stand owners had, thankfully, stashed some of their best for her usual order, which was piled into Cloud's arms as she made clumsy introductions. Everyone wanted to know who he was, where he worked, how he obtained those beautiful eyes (at least, all the elder females did) and, most importantly, if and how long they had been seeing one another.

"Twenty-odd years," Cloud would respond with ease, never failing to inspire dropped jaws or wordless stutters. At least it gave them the perfect excuse to express a quick thanks and exit before the inevitable and awkward marriage questions. The couple would stride away, sharing a private smile at the absurdity of their past, and then move on to the next item on the list.

"I didn't know they sold things other than food here," Cloud observed as they toured the remainder of the stands, even though both their hands were full with more than enough produce for the week. Still, despite the teasing behavior of most of her favorite vendors, the morning had turned out to be surprisingly pleasant; a simple stroll in the public eye, feeling delectably ordinary. A state which neither of them wanted to end just yet.

"They only started to recently," Tifa explained, trying not to be too distracted by the way their arms sometimes brushed as they walked. "People from smaller, outside villages want to have shops in Edge but can't yet afford it. So they either make their own crafts or buy some non-perishable specialties from home to sell here at a premium. Or they trade for Edge-made electronics."

"I see. Makes sense."

She watched, amused, as Cloud's eyes feasted on some of the world's finest knickknacks. Tiny, shimmering animal figurines made from Northern Crater crystals. Decorative oil lamps from Fort Condor. Hand-stitched quilts from Gongaga.

Really beautiful hand-stitched quilts.

"Hey. Tifa." He gestured with a nod of his head toward a rather pathetic looking booth, manned by one middle-aged woman whose dark, grey-streaked hair was braided and pinned with black ribbons. She looked hauntingly familiar. But then again, with the amount they've travelled, everyone looked somewhat familiar. Still, Tifa and Cloud somehow found themselves drawn toward her stall and the three modest wares she had on display.

"These are...quite gorgeous," Tifa couldn't help but compliment.

The woman flashed her a sad though grateful smile. "Took me months to make only three. Premature arthritis, ya-know? That and a lack of supplies."

"Things are still difficult out in Gongaga?" Cloud inquired, hands carefully exploring the largest of her pieces; a dark blue quilt of about queen size, embroidered all over with white and yellow lilies so delicate and detailed that one could almost confuse them with a micro-printed image if not for their dimensionality.

"Oh no! The WRO has already increased our standard of living more than we could have ever dreamed. We have a constant fresh water supply for our crops, a new church and even a rail station! They have helped us tremendously." She attempted a smile, but it was as unstable as a new racer on a wild blue chocobo. "It's just...it's just that, without my husband...it's...still a little difficult." To all three of their surprise, the woman's eyes instantly began to leak fat tears which spilled onto her quilts, darkening the fabric. Quickly, she wiped them away, mortified at her reaction as well as potentially losing a sale.

Sensing her heart tighten at the sight, Tifa oddly felt no shame in leaning forward to cover the stranger's hand with her own. She should have realized. Black ribbons were for mourning after all. Finding the love of your life and losing him so, relatively, young. It must be devastating. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Oh, I'm just being a drama queen," the stall owner laughed through her tears, giving Tifa's hand a grateful pat before releasing. "He was sick for ages and it's now been over two years since he's been gone. Seven since my son disappeared. In fact, you..." she paused, suddenly observing Cloud as if for the first time. "You look a lot like him actually. Same eyes. My boy had such beautiful eyes."

Cloud could only grin uncomfortably at her, finding this to be the most awkward compliment to digest so far. But the woman, luckily, was a master at the art of the sales segue.

"Eyes that I bet would look that much more stunning and bright when next to this quilt of mine. Let's check!" Whipping the fabric out of its folded state, she held it against Cloud's cheek and turned his head toward a now laughing Tifa. "Aha! A perfect match if I do say so myself. What does the Lady of the House think?"

"Perfect. I agree," she stuttered through her giggles. And, all joking aside, it was perfect. A blue bed of white and yellow flowers, queen size. This woman had inadvertently and so easily solved her most pressing of dilemmas. "How much?"

"120."

"You're kidding?" Tifa couldn't help but exclaim. The stores in Edge sold plain, synthetic comforters for twice that price. "In that case," she looked down to the other two pieces folded on the counter. Both were for single beds, one a delicate pink with rosebuds that closely resembled a set she had witnessed Marlene ogling, and the other a deep forest green with paler vines embroidered throughout. Denzel's favorite color. "I'll take them all! And for no less than 600."

"Oh no! I couldn't-"

"I insist! It's what they're worth in this market. Trust me." At least the days of scouring stores and prices wouldn't be completely in vain.

"Well...thank you then! Your future children will appreciate being kept warm in winter, I'm sure."

"Existing children," Cloud felt the need to clarify while handing over his open phone, the background wallpaper of which was no longer his lone wolf emblem, but a picture of the two kids posed on top of the playground's largest slide. Tifa wondered when exactly he had made the change, but quickly decided that it didn't matter. "That's Marlene, age six, and Denzel, eight."

"Well, well, well" the seamstress handed the phone back before decisively looking the ex-SOLDIER up and down with a teasingly cocked eyebrow. "You certainly didn't waste any time, did ya?"

"Nope," he responded with a matching amused grin, accepting the bags of purchases while Tifa handed over the promised cash. "Not anymore."

And that's when he kissed her.

In front of everyone.

No privacy or shadows or build up required.

Tifa's originally wide, shocked eyes eventually fluttered closed and the bags she was holding dropped, freeing her arms to wrap around his neck. She noticed then that she had lied when telling herself that it was Cloud's slowness that made their kisses so exhilarating. For this, his rare impulsive moves, when wants finally overpowered fears, were found to be equally if not more wonderful.

The vendor squealed in mock horror then full out laughter when someone from the bustling market crowd dared to yell "get a room!".

But neither Tifa nor Cloud could hear anything.

And when Mrs. Fair packed up her sold-out stand later that morning, she prayed for a blessing from Gaia upon her quilts and the fortunate family who owned them. Eternally grateful as she was for her first genuine smile in years.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm nearly choking on the cheesy-ness of this chapter, but I do hope you enjoyed it! Though we have reached chapter 10, I have a few more twists planned before the possible "happily ever after". Cloud still has his issues as I attempted to hint at here and I'm just having too much damn fun writing this couple-beginning period out for once! Damn those fics that end with "they admit they like each other, they kiss anndddd...that's all folks!" Pft. Lame.

Reviews equal faster updates, as you know :D. Thanks again for all your encouragement and support.


	11. Missing a Piece

"_If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.__"_

**- Lewis Carroll**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter XI:_ Missing a Piece_

She was frightfully aware of how cliché her reaction was, but decided to go through with it anyway. If only to make a point. If only because she needed the resulting numbness.

Standing alone in the shower stall, just a little before midnight, Tifa turned the cold knob as far as it could, instantly dousing herself in a torrent of glacial water. It hurt of course. She had expected it to. But at least it served its purpose of a distraction. At least she was currently thinking of nothing else but the biting chill now saturating both skin and bones.

That is until a knock sounded at the door.

"Tifa?" he asked timidly, even though he knew perfectly well that there was currently no one else was in the house. And no one else, especially, who would be in this room at this hour doing what she was doing.

Tifa would have scoffed if her chatting teeth had allowed her to. But instead she ignored the summons, and concentrated on the effects of the icy stream turning every inch of skin it touched into a bright shade of pink.

"Tifa..." A sigh followed by a _thump_ on the door, indicating the hitting of a heavy head against it. "I think you're over reacting."

Many hilarious retorts could not help but bob to the surface of her mind then, despite the lack of desire or ability to voice them. The fact that he was so stoic that his chosen response to any equivalent emotional backstabbing would probably have been a blink. Or, if really biting, then maybe a frown. Or, better yet, a sigh. Him and those damn lengthy _sighs_. As if they expressed anything besides an infantile reluctance to communicate.

"Tifa," he tried again after a full minute of no response, his tone insistent. "Talk to me."

She shook her head, hoping he somehow sensed the gesture through both the stall and bathroom door.

"Please," he whispered as a final appeal, barely audible over the rush of water. "Please, just...I can't go knowing you're angry."

"**Then don't leave**!" The plea was released involuntarily, her voice a loud, retching sob that echoed off the ceramic tiles.

The shower was no longer of any use after that, overwhelmed as her mind was by an untamable flood of hurt and betrayal.

Just as she reached forward to turn it off, the unmistakable click of the lock releasing resonated within the miniscule space, followed by Cloud casually walking in. Beyond the frosted glass she watched him, awestruck by this rare act of invasion, as he leaned back against the sink, folded his arms and angled his head toward the floor. Waiting. Always the gentleman despite having long since passed the point of it being necessary.

Finding no choice other than remaining where she was and eventually dying of hypothermia, she completed her mid-way gesture of shutting off the water, instantly flooding the room with a palpable silence. Cloud remained unnaturally still beyond the glass, even as she pushed the door open and took her time in finding and wrapping her towel around herself. His eyes remained glued to floor.

Ignoring his placement in the most inconvenient of spots, Tifa reached around for her toiletries and proceeded to brush her teeth in silence. Doing her best to ignore the piercing eyes that were following her every move now that she was decent.

Afterwards, he noiselessly tracked her out into the hall and back into her candle-lit bedroom, blue rose petals crushed to oblivion beneath his booted feet, up until she was seated in the stool before her dresser. Once settled, with a hair-brush brandished like a weapon, she began yanking through her tangles with a needless amount of hostility, hoping it would serve as a new distraction.

It wasn't nearly enough of course. Especially in this setting.

"Maybe..." she began, watching through the mirror's reflection as he took a seat at the edge of her bed. His full figure, dressed in dark and heavy travelling attire, clashed horribly with the rest of the room's suggested silkiness. "Maybe if you just told me where you were going or-or even how _long_-"

"I told you. I can't." he interrupted. His reflected expression was as apathetic as she had ever seen it, reminding her horrifyingly of those days just a few months ago. Right before he had disappeared to live on the cold stone floor of a church.

"How about _why_ then? Hmm? Can I at least get-"

"Tifa. No. I don't want to talk about it. I _can't_ talk about it. Just..." he pressed his lips together, obviously frustrated. "Just trust me. After everything that's happened. All I'm asking is that you trust me."

It took all of Tifa's willpower to avoid manically laughing. But she luckily still had enough of her wits about her to factor the preferred bitter exclamations into simple, hard facts. "You don't have the best track record for trust Cloud."

"I'm not exactly slinking away into the night with no warning Tifa," he pointed out sourly. "This is my home. _Our_ home. I'm going away, but I'm not leaving. This is just something I have to do. Okay?"

"And if I insist that you don't?" she spat, swiveling her chair around so that she could glare directly into his eyes. "You do remember that our adoption interview is in only two days, right? I-I can't...you can't expect me to-"

"I told you. I took care of that. My absence will in no way affect the final decision."

"What if I tell you that I can't handle being partnered with someone who disappears and can't even tell me why or where or for how long? What if I tell you that you are **not** welcome back if you walk out that door tonight?"

Cloud sighed while pushing his palms into his eye sockets. It was quite possibly the worst response he could have given. Him and that damn sigh. Expecting it, as always, to be a magical conclusion to any serious discussion not going his way. As if blind acceptance was ever an option in such arguments.

She wanted to explode into a rage. She wanted to punch him, not enough to cause any actual serious injury, but maybe enough to knock out a few teeth. She wanted to tie him to a chair and bring the kids back over from Barret's, forcing him to explain to their pained faces that he was leaving them again and wouldn't provide any other information besides "trust me". If _she_ was considered to be over reacting, what would he tell them when they fell to their knees in desperate crying, dreams of a complete family crumbling before their very eyes? How would he handle it then?

Would he simply _sigh_? Gaia-damn-him, he probably would.

As if to test the theory, she felt a similar outburst suddenly begin to swell within her chest. And without any warning, without one second the attempt suppressing it, Tifa soon found herself on her knees, on the floor, weeping so fiercely that she couldn't breathe. Something she hadn't done since her mother died. Something she had promised herself she would never do again, especially in front of anyone. Especially due to him.

"Tifa..." He closed the distance between them in two long strides, instantly bringing her into his arms. She tried to struggle, to break the embrace, but it was impossible to find the energy in between gasping breaths. "I'm coming back," he murmured, solidifying the assertion with a kiss to her hair, hoping to somehow make it stick. "I **will** come back. You, Marlene and Denzel are...you're everything. I'm coming back. I promise."

This only made her cry harder, completely baffled as to how he could say such sweet things without trusting her enough to either reveal this trip's purpose or take her threat of not being welcome back seriously. But try as she might, no words to convey these matters were able to force their way out between the sobs. She had no choice but to listen as he continued to pry open the cracks in her heart.

"I can't tell you how long because I don't know. And I can't tell you where because I don't know that either. And the why?" he forced her head up off his shoulder in order to look at him, but she was made blind by a sheen of tears so thick that his expression was rendered unreadable. "In simple terms…it's because I'm afraid. And I don't want to be. I can't be anymore. But I am coming back. I'm coming back to you, no matter what. And that's all you need to know."

Once more, he kissed her hair, praying that his words somehow found purchase.

And then, just as quickly as he had entered her life, Cloud was gone.

Again.

* * *

If only she had known how the evening would pan out, Tifa could have saved herself a lot of time. And gil. And embarrassment for that matter.

For earlier that Sunday, she had been spurred into a rather disturbing plan. A devious plot involving candlelight and roses that had, of course, been founded by a certain meddlesome ninja. A ninja who, on that specific morning, wasn't in the best of positions to be giving anyone advice.

"Yuffie. Get up." Tifa prodded the unconscious figure lounging on top of the counter with one of the many broken stool legs scattered around her once impeccable 7th Heaven. The younger girl only groaned and mumbled a weak "stop etsss..." before rolling over and off onto the floor where she, miraculously, remained asleep.

Tifa rolled her eyes to the heavens and cursed her inability to say no to a certain blonde male who was still peacefully asleep upstairs.

"_Yuffie's proven responsible enough,"_ the bar-owner muttered, repeating the words that got her into this mess as she tiptoed through the wreckage in order to reach the bar gate. _"Let her run the bar on the weekends. We can be with the kids all day. We can sleep in. _Pft. Idiot. **Yuffie**!"

Having arrived behind the bar, Tifa was horrified to see that almost every one of her liquor bottles were empty and left rolling around the floor. Not only that, but the coffee machine was spewing black sludge in a growing pool up on the highest back shelf, her six dish bins were piled waist high dirty glasses and what she could only assume were the remnants of the couch pillows led to a sink filled with sopping feathers.

"Yuffie!" she yelled again, this time while yanking the girl to her feet. "What the _hell_ did you do to my bar?"

"Dude...shhhh..." the girl insisted, eyes still closed "I told you I'd get you a drink after my nap...relaxxxx..."

Considering that slapping employees was probably frowned upon thanks to the WROs new union policies, Tifa instead decided on a gentler though no less effective technique. After positioning her ex-friend half slumped against the back wall, she went back to the kitchen and returned with an ice-cold glass of water. One which was then casually upturned above the vandal's head.

Needless to say, Yuffie woke up.

"Geez! Was that REALLY necessary?" the ninja asked after recovering from her shock, using a dirty rag from the floor to mop her face. "Just because I'm a heavy sleeper doesn't mean I deserve to be tortured!"

"What happened last night?" Tifa asked, straight to the point.

"Oh man..." Yuffie winced, eyes remaining closed as if to avoid her surroundings. "I **meant** to clean up after...but things got a little crazy."

"Define this 'crazy' if you please. Tell me how it led to me having no usable stools or even product for that matter? And it better be good. It better be good enough to warrant the panic attack I'm about to have about getting this place back up to par before our adoption interview."

"Relax boss-lady," Yuffie said with an oddly heroic smirk. As if having flicked on a sobriety switch, she easily leapt to her feet and headed to the cash register with Tifa nervously in tow. After printing out the night's log, she spun around and slapped the paper onto the only dry section of the lengthy granite bar. "How's twenty-six thousand for 'good', huh?"

With furrowed eyebrows, Tifa snatched up the receipt it order to read it again. Then, just in case a gross miscalculation had occurred, she slid over to the register and punched in the code so that it popped open. Sure enough, the drawer was full of more cash that she ever seen in once place.

Twenty-six thousand gil. That was more than they usually made in a month. Words failed her as she mindlessly began digging her hands in; riveted by the way her fingers disappeared into the apparently bottomless abyss of gold coins.

The weight of it all felt intoxicating. As if she was bathing in champagne.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Tifa face fell as she quickly shook her limbs and her mind free of their shiny bonds.

As astounding as the profits were, she had never been one to believe in trouble-free miracles. Especially in a town where the richest man was lucky if he owned a vehicle under ten years old. And, not to mention, especially when it involved a woman whose past employment resume comprised of the single entry 'petty thief'.

"Tell me how the night panned out," she asked with one hand dug into her hip, attempting to emulate severity once again. "And spare no details, please."

"Well," Yuffie easily hopped onto the bar and crossed her legs, suddenly all sugar and smiles. "You know those rowdy perverts you usually toss out of here every night? Turns out they're just lonely. Ya know the old sob story: still living with their parents, can't find the right girl, have way too much disposable income since they got hired on the WRO guardian force. A key factor. So when a new, cute, non-scary waitress arrives, they wanna buy her a few shots. Most of which she covertly spits into here." Yuffie kicked at an almost full bucket underneath the register, sloshing the murky brown contents within. It must have contained nearly a gallon of liquor.

"Said cute, cunning waitress gets them to buy bottle after bottle for their friends and their friend's friends. Until they're so peppy, that they're buying everybody's drinks at the bar! People on the street are attracted by the noise. They come in the start their own party. The cycle continues. Calls are made. Money is made. Waitress may get a little tipsy at the end of the night with some cute stragglers, maybe starts a rather brutal pillow fight and accidentally smashes a few stools, but figures she can make it up with her giant wad of tips. She tries to make some coffee in order to get the energy to clean up, but ends up passing out on the floor. And that, my dear friend, is what happened last night."

Tifa nodded, brows furrowed, her conscience struggling between being horrified at the den of sin her bar had apparently become and squealing with glee at how much money they had legitimately made. It had always been her policy to escort people out who had become just past tipsy on the scale of inebriation. Mainly due to the fact that she worked alone and couldn't contain any large-scale brawls, constantly concerned as she was for the peace and security of the children sleeping upstairs. Not to mention, in the past, if she had let them, most regulars had the ability to run up a tab they could never afford to pay off in a lifetime.

But now that there was an enforced minimum wage and money like this to be made as a result, well, that changed everything. They could hire some muscle to take care of any trouble-makers. They could expand the space and the restaurant's menu for during daylight hours. She could prep the food service while the kids were in school, then leave the night shift for a team of equally "talented" servers.

She, Cloud and the kids could move out of the city, maybe to that new residential development the WRO was currently building. Somewhere with a yard and a swing set and more than one bathroom. A real 7th Heaven, just for them.

"Thinking of hiring me full time, aren't ya?" Yuffie guessed with an annoyingly arrogant smirk. "I wouldn't blame you. This lithe Wutain lady has proven to be quite the gil-wrangler. I can check my schedule if you'd like? That is, if you agree to some of my itty-bitty demands."

And with that rather brute suggestion, Tifa suddenly and violently came crashing down to earth. Even if last night's rush wasn't a rare coincidence as she expected, hiring new staff, expanding the structure and moving the family were all very big deals. Ones that required months of preparation, both financial and logistical.

"How about this," she began, slamming the cash drawer shut with her hip so that she could fold her arms across her chest. "First things first: today you clean up this place and find replacements for everything you destroyed with gil from your own pocket. I give you one month of Friday and Saturday night trials and we'll see if you can somehow convince this city to _regularly_ squander some of its hard earned cash and avoid making this big of a mess ever again. After that, I'll consider full-time. But nothing will be implemented until Cloud, the kids and I find a new place to live. I don't want them growing up above a never ending drunken hootenanny. Deal?"

Yuffie opened her mouth then closed it, tapping one finger against her lips as if deep in pensive thought. The waiting was just for show of course, for she had made more money in one night than a good week of painful and risky materia snatching had ever divulged. Not to mention the other priceless asset that this job came hand-in-hand with: information, gossip, rumors and so forth. Serving at 7th Heaven had the rare combination of satisfying both her youthful desire to live life and have fun (ie: purposefully ignore all her father's traditions), as well as secure her position as one of Reeve's most valuable spies. It would be idiotic to let such an opportunity slip due to greed.

Still, she figured there was no harm in asking. "What about _my_ demands?"

Tifa's eyes narrowed, impressed at the girl's immunity to general courteousness. Usually, if you had just practically destroyed a place of business, one would tend to keep their head low for a while and be grateful for anything thrown their way besides a lawsuit. "You get one demand. If it's reasonable, I'll do what I can."

For this, Yuffie didn't have to think for long, as the crick in her neck was still stressing its importance. "I DESPERATELY need a proper place to crash here. The bar closes too late and my apartment is too far. Not to mention, if it's been a good night, I'll presumably not be that good at the walking thing."

"Ummm..." Eyes once again shifting toward the ceiling, Tifa considered the three other already tightly packed bodies residing up there. Having spent several nights with barely enough energy to get up the stairs after closing the bar, she sympathized with the girl's plight. Still, the fact remained: "We're kind of lacking space as it is." She shrugged, giving her employee a genuinely apologetic frown. "The best I can do is the couch in the living space off the kitchen. It's pretty comfortable. Better than the floor at least. Or the bar."

"Well, what about the cot in Cloud's office?" Yuffie asked, hopping off the counter and retrieving a clean rag from underneath. "If he preps his delivery schedule the night before, he can get straight to 'em in the morning while I can sleep off the bar's inevitable success in the privacy of my own space till noon if I want. No offense, but your kids are **loud.**"

Talk about the pot calling the kettle, but that was far from the most upsetting part of Yuffie's suggestion. With a long breath, Tifa brought up her own rag from beneath the counter and helped mop the stick surface down, hoping that a bit of manual labor would lessen the sting of the coming confession.

"Cloud's still sleeping in there," she admitted, her voice strained despite every attempt at sounding normal. "So that won't work."

Yuffie's hand, in mid-wipe, froze. One could practically hear the cogs turning in her head, churning out a series of flabbergasted responses that were, one by one, being deemed as over-dramatic. And so she settled with a very polite "oh really?" as she continued her washing. Though the straightened back and tight lips proved how much effort it took.

Tifa smirked, grateful and amused.

"We're taking things slow," she soon found herself explaining, despite the inappropriate audience. Perhaps because they had never actually, out loud, discussed the set up, putting the facts together for an outside source gave it some comforting back story. "We've only been, officially, seeing each other for a few weeks. Less than a month really. Cloud's just being a traditionalist. He's...respectful."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Makes sense." Her tone was bordering on sarcastic, but still she refrained from following with any direct comments. And Tifa, for some unknown reason, felt slightly irritated at her for not voicing an opinion.

"I mean, everybody assumes that just because we've been living together for so long, that it'd be easy to jump into living _together_-together. But it's completely different. Officially sharing a private space, that's a big step."

Yuffie nodded earnestly, eyes always on the granite. "I agree."

"Good. Thanks. Nice to know...someone understands." Because she sure as Shiva didn't get it.

The two barmaids continued to clean up the room in a tense silence, the only interrupting noises being that of the running faucet, the tinkling of glasses being arranged or the scraping of stool remnants being tossed into a pile. While getting a start on the mound of dishes, Tifa watched Yuffie out of the corner of her eye, struggling to extract from her demeanor an ounce of the judgment that she knew was shallowly lurking. But the notoriously sly ninja wasn't letting anything slip.

In the end, only one conclusion came to mind to excuse her lack of a reaction. One which she didn't have the patience to reveal through a run-around inquiry.

"He still talks to you, doesn't he?"

Yuffie froze. And for a second, Tifa reveled in her detective abilities while simultaneously suppressing a burst of jealously at the idea of them being in each other's confidants once again. That is, until the target started laughing.

"Last full sentence Cloud said to me was _'we're taking 10% of your tips for every minute you're late'. _And that was a voice mail," she easily admitted, more amused than offended. "Not to mention, he specifically avoids being left alone with me lately so that he doesn't have to accidentally hear even a second of my unsolicited suggestions. Whatever he's doing now, it's all him."

She spun and kicked a final stool leg across the room and into the pile by the door, perhaps to vent frustration, but most probably just to show off. "But, just for the record, I think having separate bedrooms at this stage is moronic. Not only because you two are ancient and should have long since gotten over your cooties issues, but because, and I quote, _'you lack space as it is'_. Even if my sleeping arrangements weren't a current issue, what were you planning to do once Denzel hits puberty, huh? Those kids can't share a room forever."

"Okay, first of all. Denzel is and will always be a little boy, and I'll beat rush anyone who says otherwise," Tifa insisted with a pointed finger, to which Yuffie rolled her eyes and nodded in sardonic agreement. "And second of all...secondly..."

The barmaid blinked stupidly for a while, her accusatory, pointing finger slowly curling into a fist and lowering as it lost all its will to defend. She thought back to the day she had finally purchased and set up her new, larger bed. With it's freshly pressed, cotton sheets, and topped with that beautiful, hand-stitched, navy quilt they had bought together at the market; it was the cherry on top of an already luscious sundae. That night, she remembered how he seemed to purposefully linger behind at the bar with her, and the thrill she felt thinking she knew the reason why. After closing, the trip upstairs that seemed to last forever. A kiss outside her door; a deep, persistent one that gradually led to hands in each other's hair and her back pressed against a wall. And then...an abrupt end, a murmur of good night, and a closed door across the corridor.

That night still stung. In fact, every goodnight kiss since then seemed to have become shorter, more sweet than ravenous, and no less excruciating. It didn't make any sense, for they had spent nights together before on the much more limited space of his cot. She had worried for a while that maybe he was losing interest. But on the days when hope was just beginning to wear dangerously thin, always in a semi-public setting, he would make sure to prove otherwise.

Once, while she had been in the space beneath the stairs that served as a laundry room, he had ducked in behind her from the garage, closed the door and backed her up onto the running dryer. Without a second's explanation, his mouth had been on hers, hard and insistent, as if he were trying to vent days of restraint into this one, brief moment. And then, just as quickly as it began, he had torn himself away, mumbling something about an important delivery before practically running out of the room. The entire encounter had only lasted a minute or two, but it had left her trembling and flushed for a long while afterward, making it difficult to concentrate on the kids' math lessons.

She had thought then that maybe this uncharacteristic boldness was a sign that he was ready to move further. But that night was the same. A quick peck of a kiss, a bid goodnight and a far away closed door. One step forward, two steps back.

It was more than frustrating. It was the type of behavior that legitimately made people, eventually, snap. The equivalent of spending weeks on a hundred-thousand piece puzzle only to realize you were missing one. Upturning the table and burning the whole lot would be regarded as a relatively understandable reaction is such cases. And she considered herself dangerously close to an equivalently theatrical outburst.

"I need to talk to him about this, don't I?" Tifa asked in a meek voice, mindlessly hugging a dish towel to her chest as if it were a stuffed animal. How she loathed trying to force heart-to-heart conversations out of Cloud. It was like trying to manually extract teeth from a wolf with rabies; an exasperating struggle that usually ended with the instigator getting hurt and the animal escaping anyway.

"Yeah. As if he'll just sit down and explain his every action to you. We both know Cloud doesn't work like that." Yuffie clapped her hands free of any remaining dust before leaning onto the bar across from the sink, her expression oddly studious."Not that I'm butting in. Cause I promised not to butt in ever again. I just hope you remember that this is your relationship too. And if something is bothering you, he has to make an effort to resolve it. But nothing can be resolved if the problem hasn't yet been even acknowledged. That being said, you still have to tread carefully around his ridiculously delicate ego. Merely complaining that you are unhappy and insisting on change will, more often than not, have a negative effect."

"Should I be taking notes?" The suggestion was, sadly, only partly a joke. But Yuffie's subsequent giggle assured that she would never live it down if she actually pulled out a paper and pen.

"Fine, fine. I'll stop with the psycho babble. Let me just _recommend_ this: you want Cloud in your room, then make it happen! Set up an offer he can't refuse."

"I should just...ask him what he sees as the next step? Right? Is that a compromise?"

"No. No its not. That was the exact opposite of my-" with a groan, Yuffie ran both hands through her short hair before slapping her palms on the bar. "We both know he doesn't respond well to talking. Just...you know...an _offer_ he can't _refuse_," she repeated slowly, this time with raised eyebrows.

Tifa, awkwardly, also lowered her palms onto the bar, brows furrows as she considered the rather extreme suggestion.

_Words are not the only way to tell someone how you feel..._

Her own advice, from long ago. Who knew it would come back to bite her so many years later?

After a full minute of silence, Yuffie's expression started to lose some of its enthusiasm. "Please tell me you get it Tifa? Cause-"

"I get it Yuffie," Tifa asserted with a hand raised to interrupt. "Thanks...I guess."

"I'm just saying that you have some extra gil in your pocket today," she nodded toward the register with a devious grin. "Maybe it could be used to stage a romantic evening? Perhaps I could drive the kids up to see Barret and come back on Tuesday, just in time for your adoption interview? I do still owe you two a proper date night, after all."

Tifa nodded tiredly, still fiddling with the towel in her hands.

"Or," she began, put off by the exceptionally miserable expression on her friend's face "or I could just keep cleaning and pretend this conversation never happened. Far be it from _me _to pressure you into anything."

Tifa laughed then, not because it was necessarily funny, but to mask how pathetic she felt for needing such a push. Were it left completely to her and Cloud, they would probably still be in the lonely roommates stage. Still pining for one another. Both too scared of the other's potential reaction to even attempt moving forward.

She was sick of being afraid. Sick of missing out on years of happiness, complete happiness, just because of what might happen.

Life (especially their often danger-filled lives) was much too short.

"Take the kids tonight," she asked with a nod, having come to a terrifying yet exciting decision. "Please. Its Sunday, so I'll have to wait till tomorrow to order the seating replacements anyway. We made enough money that I can afford to keep the place closed for a bit so that I can...prepare. For the adoption interview. And such."

"And today," Yuffie reached over the counter to grab her friend's hand, leading her around the bar end to join her on the customer's side. "Today I make sure your bar is spit polish clean for said interview, while you go find something..." she looked Tifa waitressing outfit up and down, biting her lip and cringing for emphasis. "Just try to find something an actual female would wear. K?"

"Ha. Ha," she smacked the younger girl's arm in mock offense. "Like you're one to talk."

"Hey, the tips don't lie my friend." Yuffie then reached over and drew from beneath the bar another large bucket, this one filled with coins, half of which she dumped unceremoniously on the counter and pushed over toward Tifa. "I was four minutes late yesterday," was her concise explanation. Though the unspoken reason for relinquishing her hard earned gil was, of course, the state of the bar.

If only to teach her a lesson, Tifa accepted the coins, picking out a handful of gold ones to take with her. "Put the rest in the register please," she said with a new, musical lilt in her tone before giving her friend a quick kiss on the cheek. "And…thank you."

Yuffie grinned, giving the hand she held a tight squeeze before releasing. "You're welcome."

Smiling so wide that her cheeks were beginning to hurt, Tifa snatched her coat off its hook and headed out the door toward the market place, humming as she walked. Her mind already swamped with pleasant visions of what the night would bring, and the future it would lead to.

If only she hadn't left so quickly, perhaps she would have noticed the body sitting staircase. A man with his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples, at a loss for what to do.

Instead of blaming Yuffie, he blamed himself, having put off and ignored the problem for longer than could ever be deemed safe or fair. Sighing in frustration, Cloud ran his fingers through his blonde spikes before settling on the one and only possible option.

He had to go.

Tonight.

* * *

Barret found her in the church. Well, what was left of the church.

With the plate continually crumbling, allowing beams of sunlight to touch the slums' earth, along with the arrival of the mystical lake a few months ago, plant life seemed to have taken over the structure, turning the wall and column remnants more leafy green than stone grey.

If the place had been considered serene before, now it was absolutely heavenly.

It was almost impossible to enter and not immediately feel at harmony with Gaia and the Planet. That is, unless you came here as part of a desperate hunt, jealous of ghosts and their connections to those still alive.

She sat at the lake's edge, staring unblinking into the water, knees hugged tightly to her chest. Her feet were bare. Her eyes, red-rimmed. And the silky, blue dress she wore was dirty and damp. The same dress they had seen her in last, a whole two days previously. Right after she had fled from the bar, leaving two children and a bewildered WRO representative in her wake.

"Tifa," he began, but then stopped himself. Knowing that there was nothing he could say to help, really. Instead, he took light, deliberate footsteps toward her, giving her time to adjust to his presence. As if she were an easily startled deer.

When he eventually arrived at her side, he sat down, mimicking her exact stance, staring out into the abyss of Aerith's lake.

"He's not here," she eventually sputtered, her voice sounding dry and cracked. As if she hadn't drank or eaten for days. A startling observation that was probably dead on.

Barret nodded. "I told you he wouldn't . _They_ aren't the point of this, whatever it is."

Tifa swallowed loudly. "I guess not..."

The thought gave her surprisingly little comfort.

They sat in silence for a while longer.

"Marlene and Denzel are worried about you," he dared to try. "You scared them."

A long sniff from Tifa as she averted her eyes, intensely ashamed of her behavior at the adoption interview. "I couldn't-I can't...Gods…I couldn't get through it alone...I can't do this alone."

"You won't have to!" the older man insisted, gently forcing her to turn her shoulders and face him. She kept her eyes downcast, silent tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Look Tifa. I-I know I haven't been around much. But it's because that's how good I know you are for Marlene. She's my baby girl. And I'd do anything to ensure her happiness. And that happiness is with you. Under you and only your care. You hear me?"

"I messed up Barret..." she choked out in a broken whisper, slowly shaking her head. "I ss-scared him away. And-and when that man from...from the WRO. He-he asked about us and...and I couldn't breathe!" A nearly inhuman cry of frustration echoed throughout the space, causing all lounging birds in the area to shriek and take flight. Tifa bent forward, leaning her cheek onto the man's expansive chest while pulling frantically at the roots of her hair. "They're going to take them away now. And-and I'll be all alone. I don't want to be alone Barret."

"That's not gonna happen. Not without a fight. We'll all fight for them. And we'll win Tifa. We always do!"

"But Cloud...I can't...not alone."

Barret had to restrain himself from growling, that name having recently become a curse among their gang.

When that idiot came back, and Barret had no doubt that he would eventually, some "words" were definitely in order. Now if only they could get Tifa to believe it as adamantly as the rest of them did.

"I'm not saying he ain't gonna get his legs broke, but if you're up to helping him heal then you will be getting him back. Spikey, he..." Barret paused to take a deep breath, unsure whether this information would help or hinder. But quickly decided that any outcome was better that this hopelessness. She certainly couldn't get any worse.

"He loves you Teef. And for whatever insane reason inspired him to go, loving you had something to do with it. And I'm willing to bet either one of my hands on that. Preferably the metal one seeing as I got, like, six back home." This extracted a chuckle/sob out of the girl; evidence that he was moving in the right direction. "He will come back. He's coming back. Just...get it through your head and this will all be over. Spikey may not be a saint, or even a decent human being in my books, but if he's anything, its honest. If he said he's coming back, he **will** come back. Okay? Trust us."

Tifa lay motionless against him for a long while after that, the only evidence of her being alive were the occasional sniffs and shuddering breaths. For all his years with her in AVALANCHE, Barret could never have fathomed seeing her this...fragile. It was strange. Like someone else was wearing her skin. Someone broken and unnaturally cold.

She was silent for minutes that stretched into an eternity, and Barret worried for a while that she was too far gone for any of his words to have gotten through. One phrase, however, only one, seemed to have made an impression.

"He..." she swallowed, her voice so low he could barely hear it over the trickling water. "He l...loves me? He-he told you that?"

Barret sighed. "Yeah. 'Course he did. Told me point blank to my face over a cup o hot cocoa. Then we skipped on home holding hands and, I dunno…pickin' daisies."

Though he didn't think it was possible, Tifa slunk even further against him. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed."

"Look Teef, I can just tell. We all can. He's always had this...slightly less-cranky look on his face when you're around, and he don't listen either. Gotta repeat things twice cause he's 'distracted'. It's disgusting, really. Always made me want to smash his face in. But that may just be the rage talking, editing my memories a bit." Tifa snorted, giggling pathetically against his chest.

As if the joke were a trigger, he watched as she gradually seemed solidify before his very eyes. Her clamping fingers released themselves from her hair, her limbs stopped shivering, and by the time she lifted her face up to him, she was almost the old, resilient, indestructible, bad-ass bartender he knew and loved. Almost.

Just missing a piece.

"I want to go home," she stated, voice still raspy but no longer bleak.

Barret smiled, gratefully taking her small hand into his own larger one.

"You're the boss my friend."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Has that ever happened to you? You start a ten-thousand piece puzzle only to discover that a stupid little wedge in the sky is missing? This chapter is dedicated to said anonymous puzzle company's quality control department that has done this to me FOUR TIMES (I'm very careful to open the box where I plan to put the thing together).

So frustrating.

A quick update to reward my awesome reviewers from last chapter :D. Thanks again for all your support. Cloud still has a few steps, final to go before becoming that man he's meant to be. I hope you look forward to discovering these steps as I do to writing them.


	12. The Gift

"_Yesterday is history._

_Tomorrow is a mystery._

_Today is a gift._

_That's why they call it the present."_

**- ****Alice Morse Earle**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter XII:_ The Gift_

Tifa was tired.

She was always tired lately.

Not sleeping generally had that effect on a person, but she tried not to let it distress the household nor her business too badly. And, for the most part, she succeeded.

She still made the kids their meals. Still went through their lessons with them. Still met with Reeve to survey the building progress of the new school. Still served food and drinks at the bar. Still chatted with Yuffie or Barret or whoever else was currently occupying the office in order to babysit her under the guise of keeping the delivery service afloat. Still returned to her bed every night and lay there, staring at the ceiling, waiting.

It was the same life as before, the two long years he had been emotionally and physically absent, just without any sleep this time.

It wasn't that bad.

Especially on night a like tonight, when there was still a lot of work to be done and she was grateful not to be distracted by the once natural lure of her bed.

Crouched over a sewing machine in the corner of her room with a tiny desk lamp as her only source of light, Tifa carefully guided the last seam through the feed, biting her lip in concentration. This was the eighth time she was attempting to close this tricky edge, her last chance to get it right seeing as she was running out of thread and wouldn't have a chance to pick up more before tomorrow morning. It simply had to work. It had to be perfect.

"Andddddd….voila!" she whispered into the darkness, shaking out the complete garment and holding it up to the light.

Perfect it indeed was. A delicate, little, white dress with puffed sleeves, pink embroidered roses, thick ribbons and matching slippers; a project that she had spent this entire, restless month piecing together, ripping apart, redesigning and piecing together again. Finished at last.

With a smile, an expression that rarely graced her lips as of late, Tifa snipped at any loose threads and brushed away some imaginary dust, prepping it for storage within the decorated box left open on her bed spread. Once folded, she placed the dress inside as daintily as if it were a newborn child before replacing the lid and rearranging the flamboyant bow which topped it all off.

A glance at the clock on her nightstand confirmed that she had just made the deadline. 12:01 it read.

"Happy Birthday Marlene," she said quietly, taking a deep breath of chilly, night air.

The gaudy box remained still on her bedspread, bright pink contrasting with the navy of her comforter. It already seemed pathetic, she noted with a frown. Despite its expense, both time and gil wise, she knew it wouldn't be enough. Nothing would be enough to make them forget, even for a moment, the person who should have been there. The person who that little girl _needed_ to be there when she blew out the candles.

Gods…how she was dreading the party tomorrow. Marlene probably even more so. But Barret had insisted. He figured that through being besieged by wave after wave of family, friends and respected acquaintances, the unconventional household could find some way to temporarily fill the void. As if the mass of people would serve as anything other than a pressing reminder at how his love had so easily failed in comparison.

_'Don't think about it,'_ Tifa had to remind herself. A mantra she found to be repeating several times a day, and especially when left alone like this. _'Just don't think about it. It'll hurt too much. You can't afford to think about it.'_

A deep breath, a feigned impervious grin and the thoughts were immediately expelled. She had a month of practice after all. Not to mention quite a few early episodes of unpreventable, muffled sobs after serving a customer a glass of Corel wine (his favorite) or while giving a vocabulary lesson (Denzel still can't spell _desertion_) that forced her into finding some way of keeping it together. The facade never lasted long though. Fewer and fewer minutes with every passing day. But at least it bought her enough time to, usually, come up with an excuse to hide, lock herself in somewhere, and silently allow a tear or two to fall. Tonight was no exception. So she picked up the box, rearranging its bow a final time while placing it on her dresser, all before heading to the bathroom; going through the usual pre-bed, ritual show just for the sake of those other bodies that she knew listened for her movements.

Brush teeth. Wash face. Braid hair. She pushed through the mechanical motions as if it were a choreographed dance that had been programmed into her. Her limbs felt heavy and slack as if they were on rusty hinges, pulled by strings that she had no control over. And as she crawled under the covers, another ruse staged for those who were known to check on her, she let herself disintegrate into a form of standby mode. Her body needing to rest even though her mind wouldn't, couldn't, shut down. A single trail of liquid leaked out of the corner of her eye, and then another. And finally…quiet.

She had survived another cycle of sunrises and sunsets, this hour marking exactly thirty-two days since he had left this very room. It was always the same; the morning spent in misery, an afternoon of questioning 'why?' finished with a night of debilitating loneliness.

And tomorrow it would start all over again.

Perfect.

* * *

It was nearly four am when her eyes shot open, instantly alert and invigorated by a hidden reserve of adrenaline.

Someone was in her room. Someone who wasn't the tip-toeing Marlene and Denzel, nor the staggering of Yuffie after closing the bar.

No, these steps were heavier. Slower. Hesitating. As if they knew they didn't belong. As if they were poised for a quick retreat if necessary.

A thief? A sexual predator? A large and ferocious wild animal? Tifa didn't waste time in finding out. And the visitor didn't waste time in reacting.

As soon as her arm shot out she knew the punch wouldn't be fast enough, her body having become sluggish and weak from lack of exercise, eating and sleep, so she wasn't surprised when her wrist was easily caught. What did surprise her though, was the perpetrator.

His grip was tight, stronger than one would think from so slender an arm. His gloves, leather still cool from outdoors, slid easily against her skin as he loosened his grip. She followed the limb up to a torso, covered in a navy sweater unzipped just far enough to reveal the V of his collar bone, dark riding goggles hung around a smooth, pale neck. Up further were lips, pale and chapped from the effects of constant wind, and cheeks that were red from being slightly sun burnt. She stopped there. She couldn't go any further. His eyes, they had always been too difficult to replicate even in her imagination. Looking into them would ruin things.

"I'm…dreaming," she deduced at last. With a breathless chuckle she fell back into bed, pressing the meat of the pillows up against the sides of her face in an attempt to snap herself out of it through evasion. This was far from the first time, and the phantom had long since become more of a reason for annoyance other than concern. After all, insomnia was known to do funny things to people's mental health, and she was too tired to do anything more than acknowledge and attempt to reason with her mind's gradual degradation.

"Please get out of my head," she begged her subconscious, eyes squeezing shut and then roughly blinking open again, trying to erase the sight of the shadowed figured as if it were a mere stubborn stain. "I know you love me. I know you miss me. I know everything I've ever wanted to hear from you. So tonight, please, just leave me alone. I'm not in the mood."

The phantom stayed silent. Hallucinations, good hallucinations, usually did. Giving them a voice usually gave them too much of your own personality, breaking the spell.

What he did instead was coyly place himself on the edge of the bed beside her. His hand, still lightly gripped to her wrist, pulled ever so slightly, coaxing her closer without insisting. Giving her more than enough opportunity to free herself, to resist.

As if her body would ever allow her that option.

So with a sigh, she permitted herself to be drawn into a sitting position, resigned to staggering through the usual scene until properly awoken. On the way, as if by its own resolve, her loose neck fell forward onto a surprisingly solid shoulder, the wool unpleasantly scratching her cheek. He smelled just like he always had, but...better this time around. Skin-censored menthol, tinged with fire and earth instead of the usual soap and metal. It was his scent that triggered it for her, forcing her mind to rouse itself a little and pay proper attention.

"Cloud..."

Hands blindly reached upward, vision still focused on the blackness beneath her eyelids, until fingers fell upon the open collar of his sweater. His travelling clothes, the ones she had seen and laundered a million times before, were more worn than usual. The fabric was thinner and her finger wriggled into a hole in the knit near the base of his throat.

Strange that such specific imperfection should find its way here, into her fantasy. Stranger still how it caused her heart rate to speed up.

"Cloud?"

Still unsure, she again repositioned her hands to pick at the tufts of hair at the base of his neck. It was as soft as always. Like chocobo feathers. But also slightly greasy and damp. As if he hadn't washed it in days. Days which had included several occasions of rigorous exercise. And his face...she instructed those same fingers to trace his jaw, feeling there a notable stubble that had been invisible in the dim light; a feature that her usual, groomed Cloud had never allowed to happen, if only because he would never hear the end of his friends' teasing on the subject of how pale, fine and therefore pointless the growth was.

It was slowly starting to sink in then. Fantasy being conquered by reality. The way he felt and smelled and sat stiffly proving that this was no dream lover, but a real, disgruntled man fresh from a long and, apparently, arduous journey.

As a final test, she pulled away slightly, till their faces were but an inch apart. On her way, she found a new scar by his ear and gasped as how long and surgically straight it was. But before asking about it, before doing or thinking anything else, she forced herself to meet his eyes.

Any lingering haze of doubt was immediately expelled then. For those bright blue irises encasing a growing ring of shimmering jade, they were impossible to even dream.

Tifa was suddenly and violently rendered fully awake.

"You're back," she whispered. It was a statement, but the slight end infection hinted to its questioning nature.

Cloud nodded once, shortly and deftly. "I'm back."

A series of potential reactions briefly assaulted her brain as she took her first, fully conscious breath in what felt like decades. Questions of where he had been, what took him so long, where did the scar come from, was he here to stay etc., all stampeded towards her, each vying for dominance. Though they were all deemed important, some more than others, easily rearranging themselves into a prioritized list for the coming interrogation, Tifa's heart was given first swing at the situation. And the first thing it wanted, the first thing it _needed_, was to feel alive again.

As if in slow motion, she watched, powerlessly, as the gap between them closed. Gently, she wandered the rough edges of his lips with her own, hoping to expel the discomfort or at least distract from it. Not to mention, perhaps hoping to inspire him into performing a proper reunion. It had been so long, too long, since she had felt his touch, and she found herself eagerly craving it. His very presence was like that of a inhalable narcotic to which she had long since become hopelessly addicted. So much so that she blamed her dramatic actions on the first few days following his departure as a form of withdrawal symptoms.

But he was back. Maybe only for tonight, but in that moment she didn't care. One hit and she could be satiated for a while longer. Just a minute of the passion he so sparingly doled out, proof that it still existed after so many weeks apart, and then maybe she could sleep soundly tonight.

Alas, humoring her was far from his most pressing of purposes.

Cloud remained still. Too still. He was only stiffly tolerating her explorations, silent and frigid as if counting down the seconds until she was finished. It was then that she noticed how strangely _not_ warm he was, and not just in his reactions. His mouth, for the first time when she pressed against it, felt like she was kissing a block of solid ice, when in the past they had always contained a heat that made her instantly feel fevered.

Her eyes snapped open.

Something was wrong.

This...this _cadaver _wasn't her Cloud. He couldn't be. Everything was...a little off. His smell, she just noticed, wasn't as potent as usual; the minty tinge more of a buoying suggestion than a constant assault on her nostrils. His skin didn't contain its usual electric tingle. And even his eyes, the ones she had been so delighted to recognize the unique coloring of, she hadn't bothered then to notice how dim they were. How, relatively, plain they were; a quiet and flat blue-green.

"Cloud..." She pulled away hesitantly, fingers on his chin forced his head to tilt left, then right, trying to catch the glow from a different angle.

Nothing.

"What..." A shaky breath was released as her equally trembling hands drew back, suddenly and unexpectedly terrified. Questions, despite their awkwardness, instantly became the new priority. "What happened to you?"

It was a long, tense filled moment before he reacted in any way, and even then it was only with the opening and closing of his mouth and a few stuttered syllables. After a minute or two of fruitless trying, he averted his eyes and quietly groaned.

"I shouldn't have come here," he muttered before abruptly leaping to his feet and moving toward the corner of the room, dirt-speckled gloves rubbing down his face. "It was stupid to come back here."

"S-Stupid?" Tifa repeated in disbelief, her voice already cracking. "H-how can _home _be...how can you even _say_..." she took a moment to clear her throat, anger suddenly overriding the whole other myriad of emotions currently swelling within her. Instantly invigorated, she threw off the covers and moved to stand defiantly before him, vainly trying to capture his lowered eyes. It was almost the same positions they had been in when he left all those weeks ago among candlelight and rose petals, but this encounter would end differently. He had no choice but to end it differently, neither of them would allow otherwise.

"If you want to go, go!" she spat with much more vehemence than intended with one finger pointed at the door, to which Cloud notably flinched. "Go now and don't _ever_ even think of coming back. I'll tell the kids and our friends that you've died and, for all intents and purposes, you will be dead to us. If that's what you want, I'll make it happen. No one will look for you. But what you _can't_ do is THIS. You can't keep popping in and out of our lives whenever you feel like it! It's not fair."

"I-I know it isn't. I know you deserve better...I just...I can't-"

"Can't what? Be a decent human being to those who have shown you nothing but love and respect? Fine! Then go! Please, just go and get it over with. _I_, for one, **cannot** watch you walk away from us for the _fourth_ time and just keep waiting and waiting and waiting for you to **grow up**. It's...it's too much. It's killing me. Don't you see that you're killing me?"

Damn. She hadn't even noticed the tears until they were already dripping down her jaw. Quickly, she wiped them away, chin held extra high for some semblance of outward strength even though his eyes were still avoiding her. How many times she had imagined this reunion? Thousands for sure. She had prepared herself to be warm, welcoming and accepting, always accepting, of whatever he chose to give them. But the exhaustion made her unbalanced and feeble, unable to pretend any more that she had the strength to put up with his constant indecision. It had to end somewhere. It had to end tonight. She had officially run out of patience.

"I'm serious," she asserted, taking one bold step closer. "Last chance get out of jail free card. No difficult kids, no _nagging _partner, no responsibilities, no life. It's an option. But you have to choose. You have to figure out what you want, and you have to do it now. No more waiting."

The demands were pressing, but simple, and if he decided that he rather not answer, then she would regard that as his official resignation from their family. As much as the very idea made her heart feel as it were being stretched into a thin-crust pizza dough, she knew she would get over it. Eventually. Before Cloud's interest, a male companion had never been part of her plans for the future anyway, and she had been through many more difficult losses that she had had no warning or control over. She would get over Cloud Strife. Or, more accurately, she knew she could _survive_ Cloud Strife, if only barely. Anything was better than going through a month like this one again, desperately clutching to the strings of hope he had left with promises of his return. Better to just cut them all loose.

"You have to choose," she repeated after a minute of silence, during which she watched as every muscle in his body became tense. "Tell me, right now, what kind of life you want."

"What I want..." he scoffed then and shook his head, somehow finding humor in this most dire of conversations. "There's a big difference between what I want to do, and what I should do."

Tifa hated that she honestly didn't know which option was which. "Whatever makes you happy is what you _should_ do," she instructed, her voice surprisingly solid.

"Happy..." he repeated, nodding his head. "I didn't- I don't think it's possible. For me." He quietly chuckled, this time somewhat maliciously and Tifa had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"You're no special case Cloud. Everyone has issues. Everyone feels guilty for something or other. The difference between you and them is that they get over it. We're all only human."

"That's just the problem though. I'm not, really."

"Not what?"

"...Human."

His eyes abruptly flicked up to meet hers and, for only a second, their usual menacing glow returned full force. But just as quickly as it arrived, it flickered and died out, taking whatever he had gained of confidence with it.

With yet another sigh, Cloud ran his fingers through his hair and sidestepped around her, heading toward to bed. As he sat down upon the mussed sheets, hands clasped in his lap, Tifa turned to face him. All her energy was concentrated on swallowing down a tirade that may very well lead to their eternal separation; an ending that was unacceptable if spurred only by sheer stubbornness. So she waited, fists clenched, for him to speak first.

"I'm not exactly..." he began, but faltered. Another deep breath, another attempt to summon what courage remained. "You've always known, always accepted, that I'm...different."

Tifa brought her long hair forward over her shoulder, beginning to re-braid it if only for a distraction. There was no point in saying anything. This time, he had to do the talking. He had to try, and try hard, to put them back together. To see if they could still fit together. If that was even his intention.

"Zack once hinted to me in one of his many speeches as to why SOLDIER wasn't worth it, that...mako, it-it _changes_ you. Physically. In every way. Once you're injected, anything normal that may be natural to civilians is suddenly...complicated."

At this, Tifa's brow furrowed, titling her head as a prompt to continue.

But he couldn't. The words, try as he might, got stuck in his throat. So he pressed his palms into his eyes, groaning at his own pathetic insistence on being introverted. Tifa deserved so much better than this.

"If I were a better man, a stronger man, I wouldn't have come back here. I shouldn't have come back here. I should just-"

"No." When he looked up, she was suddenly there before him, bending with her hands on her knees, glaring at him with dark, furious eyes. "That is what a coward would do. Disappearing without a word, letting the children grow up without a proper father figure just because he's too scared to talk, to _attempt_ fixing things...that's called a coward Cloud Strife."

Cloud began shaking his head. "I didn't think this through. I didn't think it would get to this. I wanted to stay, but I couldn't...I can't be near you and NOT...I-I wished we could go back. To how it was."

"This was YOUR choice," Tifa pointed out persistently, anger thankfully still overwhelming grief. "Why did you start this then? Why did you ask me to marry you? What did you think would happen?"

He snickered then, morosely, still refusing to meet her eyes. "I thought we'd continue exactly as we were, just without the fear of you ever replacing me, and solidifying the kids adoption. It was a delusional, band-aid solution."

"You never thought I'd want you. You never thought you'd need me."

"...Yes."

There was no point in telling him how stupid that conclusion was. They had reached this point now, and there was no way to go but force their way forward. No matter how treacherous and mucky the road was.

"Despite this, you came back," Tifa pointed out, hoping to give him reason to continue. "You came back because you knew, deep down, that it was truly the right thing to do. A brave, strong man, the kind that you are, would come back, whatever the problem, and figure it out."

"Figure it out..." he repeated, his tone mocking. "You make it sound so...simple."

"Whatever it is Cloud, I won't-I can't just give up. We can get through this. Whatever it takes. Together. Alright? Hey..." she lightly placed a finger under his chin, coaxing those pained eyes up into finally looking at her. He looked so broken, so worried, that she felt a sudden terror to discovering this secret, debating if only for a second the suggested plan of disappearing and she attempting to move the family onward. But it was quickly deemed to not, and to never be, an actual option. A damaged puzzle piece was always better than a missing or borrowed one in order to make the picture complete.

"You're not alone," she reminded him while lowering herself onto the floor, kneeling. "Not anymore."

She waited there, hands on his knees, for him to collect himself. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths, digesting her words and absorbing their truths.

Soon enough he knew, with absolutely certainty, there was no other choice but to reveal himself for what he was. No way to go but forward. Even if, as it was in his head, forward lead downward. Into the abyss.

"When I...kiss you..." he wet his lips nervously and averted his eyes to the bedspread, knowingly it would only get more embarrassing before it got easier. "I see...sparks. Literally. Synapses-charging, a form of fusion that creates energy _inside_ my eyes and, I assume, the rest of me. I figured it was just...happiness. Normal 'new-relationship-syndrome' as Yuffie would say. It's always scared me, but I found reason to ignore it. It was never long and could be vented through training or playing with the kids or doing some deliveries. But...you mentioned my eyes, the glow, and...I knew then that it was mako related."

A careful sigh was released and he quickly glanced down at her, trying to remember and therefore better describe the feeling. "Soon it started building. Experiences stacking one on top of the other. Sometimes, recently, you'd just look at me and it would take over. A minute with you and I'd need three hours to cool down and feel normal again. And one night, when I stayed behind after you closed the bar, I knew that being with you, fully, might get rid of it. And I wanted that. More than _you_ I just wanted to get those damn sparks out of my head.

"There was nothing _loving_ about those feelings. I now know that it's a battle enhancement Shinra invented, one with a few design flaws as per usual. When my heart rate increases for any reason, I'm made stronger, more violent and I prioritize the need to expel the excess energy above all else. I felt I'd gladly rip you apart in exchange for a second of release. It's not normal. It's dangerous. Not only that, but the geostigma. Jenova's poison. It's still in me, still potentially contagious. Who knows what it would do to you if we were to be...close? But the sparks would come and I would stop caring. And I needed you...it's scary how much. I needed you more than anything. I tried to resist. I convinced myself that I could resist forever.

"But then," he chuckled with a tinge of frenzy, gesturing around the room. Referring to the night she had decided to take things into her own hands. "I followed you, you know? When you went shopping with Yuffie's tips. I saw you buy roses and candles and that blue dress, with the...buttons, all the way down and...and I knew I was doomed."

"You could have told me," Tifa interrupted, more angered than worried by the story. "We could have talked about it, come up with a solution. A compromise."

"I didn't _want _to talk about Tifa," he growled in response. "And there was no compromise. You push, sometimes. And though I know it's usually for my own good, I couldn't take it in this case. The whole reason we're together, the reason I liked us together, is because I can pretend to be normal for a while. And bringing this up, _discussing _the ways in which my body can't work the way you wanted it to...I couldn't. I just...couldn't."

As if by their own prerogative, Tifa's hands yanked themselves away from his knees as quickly as if they'd been burnt. And maybe they had, in a way. Here she had thought he had long since come to terms with the stigma and poisoning, but he had been continually wrestling with it behind her back this entire time. She felt...betrayed in a sense. As if their entire relationship up until this point had been a staged lie. As if their being together had nothing to do with _love_, but was just a mere prop, an accessory, to help him find temporary relief from his demons. By day he played as part of the happy family, by night he revealed his true self; a monster itching for release from this prison. One that had finally found escape, only to have his electric leash drag him back in, kicking and screaming.

"I know what you're thinking," he interrupted her gruesome thought process, hands clenched into the comforter. "But don't. Being with you, the nights we spent together at the beginning, before it became untamable...I never felt so..."

"Normal?" Tifa suggested in a choked whisper.

"Home." Cloud finished instead.

They sat there together in silence for a long while, slowly digesting the facts, the situation, their feelings. Throughout this process one final fact remained unresolved...what happens now?

"I won't...pressure you anymore," Tifa whispered, even though the suggestion broke her heart. They had been so close...so tantalizingly close to perfect bliss. But she knew that having Cloud around, even as just a friend once more, was a much better alternative than his absence. "We can...go back. To how it was before."

"Can we?" Cloud asked, sounding equally pained by the notion.

Tifa could only shrug. "I see no other choice but to try. I-I love you Cloud. And if that's what you need, as close to a normal life as you can get, then...then I'll do anything. Anything to make you hap-"

She was interrupted by movement out of the upper corner of her eye; him, falling from the bed with arms wide open. He knelt before her and brought her into his arms with such ferocity that she feared for a moment that it was the 'sparks' taking over. But then his head fell onto her shoulder, his hands were felt gently brushing through her hair, and his back shuddered with emotion.

"We can't go back," he whispered to her, his voice more strained than she had ever heard it. It was strange to hear him sounding so fragile, as if on the brink of tears, and she knew better than to do anything more than sit there and listen. "I knew that was never an option. It would kill me to go back to how it was. So I left. Not to get away, but to find answers."

"Wha-what do you mean?" Tifa's breath stuck into her throat when he didn't respond. "Cloud...where have you been?"

The shuddering got worse and Tifa instinctively held on to him tighter, hoping to act as an emotional anchor. "Testing facilities for the stigma and mako survivors." He spat the words out, as if they were torture devices. And to him, she knew, they may as well have been. "There's a practice in Kalm, one in Mideel. The largest one is in Wutai, far from WRO restrictions on the subject. I knew they existed somewhere, but I had avoided them. I didn't want to know the details of what was wrong with me. I didn't want to participate in their research as another subject. But now I had to. I had to make sure I was safe. For all of you."

"Cloud..." Tighter still she held him as tears sprung into her own eyes. It wasn't enough. She knew it would never be enough to erase the horror of what he must have been through. Needles and shock treatments and blood and skin samples and endurance and skill tests. Giving yourself, your body and your trust, to strangers who would sooner gut you, just to poke around your insides, than actually help. And all of this for her. "I-I'm so sorry...Gaia...I'm sorry."

The new scar on his cheek. She recognized it now as the faultless slice of a surgical laser. Maybe they were testing how fast he healed, maybe they had locked him in a room where such things popped out of the walls, just to marvel at his reflexes. Either way, she knew it was sourced from a nightmare. Made real by his own free will, just in case there was a chance it could improve things.

"I don't...want to talk about my time there..." he eventually muttered. And Tifa adamantly nodded in response. Not only did he deserve his privacy in this case, but she honestly didn't want to know. "But...just so you know...It...helped."

"Helped?"

"A little. Yes." He pulled away then, just enough so that they were face to face. His hands rose on either side of neck as her forehead leaned against hers. A long sniff to absorb the difficult memories, and he was ready to explain. "I'm on an experimental drug, developed specifically for the few people with my condition as, primarily, a way to tame their strength. It dulls the senses, slows me down both mentally and physically so that I produce less energy. It's...odd. But I'm handling it well, apparently. This is the first time in weeks I've felt...safe around you."

Tifa smiled, though with difficulty. "Good. I guess..." she attempted to console. But the terrifying fact remained that he was currently being used as a guinea pig. Fears that she couldn't help but voice. Doctors, labs and tests, especially those that dealt with mako, were notorious for having devious intentions through their apparent research. "But...there's side effects, right? There must be."

"Yes," Cloud admitted readily. "For the first week I was constantly throwing up, falling down, shaking and sweating. I felt as if every cell in my body was being pinched. They told me that it was normal, just the immune system fighting against an apparent invasion. They said it would go away. And it did."

Tifa nodded through a wince. Cloud had such a high tolerance for pain, that she could only imagine how excruciating it must have been to spur such reactions.

"What about long term?" she couldn't help but push. "What if it happens again? What if this is _killing_ you instead of just 'taming' you?"

"They showed me the file of an ex-SOLDIER who has been taking the meds for three years. He still comes in for tests every few months, and he's been stable. He's managed to open a weapons shop on the road to Costa Del Sol and maintain a healthy relationship. His wife, she comes with him. She's clear of any signs of infection too, so far."

"What if they're lying to you? What if these drugs are a trigger for some later war attempt? What if their real goal is to get rid the world of the mako-infected population? What if-"

"It doesn't matter Tifa," he interrupted, the hands on her neck grasping a little more tightly. "You taught me that. We can't keep worrying about what _might_ happen, right? I mean, obviously, I worry about it. But as long as we do everything we can do, as long as we're as careful and responsible as we can be...then..."

He sighed, a deep, staggering one. And then he kissed her. Softly. Respectfully. Just to prove that the feeling was worth it. Before asking the question that may very well break the deal.

"With the SOLDIER couple though, it's only a matter of time. The odds...twelve percent chance that she'll catch it anyway. That she'll become a puppet, a shell, that can't control her own strength and is a danger to everyone she loves. They've been lucky so far. But that wasn't enough of a reason for me to come back here..."

Tifa gulped. She could sense what was coming, even before he asked it. It scared her at first - actually, who was she kidding - the concept would continue to terrify her until the end. But his kiss has served its purpose. It proved that they simply had to do everything they could do to make this work. "What do you want me to do?" she asked with a shuddering breath.

Cloud smiled. Albeit morosely. She had always been able to read him so well. "There's a new supplement they're testing. To build a natural immunity to the poison."

"Uh-huh...Side effects?"

"Nausea. Vomiting. Liver bleeding. Stomach ulcers. Migraines. Infertility. Basically anything and everything, the antibodies are so unstable. And even then, there's no guarantee you won't contract it. And I don't need to list to you the horrors of that conclusion."

It was the ugliest of truths, but he needed her to know it. If she decided now that it wasn't worth it, if only for the kids' sake, he could live with that. At least there wouldn't be any regret on his end.

"Hmm," Tifa smacked her lips together, considering. "Well, you know already that my own accident led to infertility. You got over your illness within a week, proving that people with healthy immune systems will probably have brief and temporary negative effects. You haven't had an outbreak of geostigma in nearly a year and haven't been exposed directly to mako in seven. There has been no sign of relapse in any of the children who were treated in the church lake, so it is safe to assume that a vast majority of the cells have cleared your system. That would mean that, if I do this, the chances of you transferring, me accepting and duplicating enough to affect my life in any way would be incredibly low, right?"

Cloud nodded, a bit surprised by her easy, medical approach to the subject. "Yes. But that doesn't mean-"

"They must have given you some statistics? You were there for nearly a month."

"Yes. A point six percent chance. Still, I wouldn't blame you if-"

"Cloud," Hands rose to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look up at her when his eyes began to wander away again in shame. "There's a point six percent chance that I will be hit by lightning. A point six percent chance that Barrett will walk in the door wearing a dress. A point six percent chance that the entire city gets raided and bombed tomorrow. But there is a one hundred percent certainty that if we, right now, don't do anything and everything in our reasonable power to do in order to make this work, then we will regret it for the rest of our lives." She kissed him again then, quickly. Again, to remind them both of the amazing results should this succeed. "So...I'll do it. If you trust these people, I can too. I don't want us to be afraid anymore."

"We could just agree to **not**-"

Tifa slapped a hand to his mouth to interrupt, furiously shaking her head. "If this is the only thing stopping us, then no. I don't want another incomplete relationship with you. And I'm pretty sure you don't want that either." He, reluctantly, nodded. "It's time to stop fighting it. Okay? We'll be careful, like we are with everything. We can't let what might happen dictate our every action. It's no way to live. Agreed?"

Again, a nod, inspiring her to give him a nervous smirk while dropping her hand from his mouth, skimming fingers over his lips as she did so. It was impossible to tell who started it, but soon they were kissing again. Perhaps to celebrate their new, mutual foray into the uncertain future, but most probably because they had since had their boundaries weakened. Tifa no longer questioned his desire of her, and Cloud no longer worried about being pushed too far by his abnormal cell-structure. At that moment, even though Tifa's acceptance of the supplements would greatly reduce the risk, there was still only a twelve percent chance. And, in that moment, twelve percent seemed so very...abstract.

Gloved hands slapped themselves to her shoulders and squeezed, nails felt digging into her skin even through the leather as he pulled her body closer. And when that wasn't enough, for the first time she felt his mouth open against hers, coaxing her to do the same, allowing him to fully explore and taste her.

It was...strange. To say the least. But definitely not in a bad way. As proven when she let out an involuntary little moan; a sound she had never heard herself make. As if on her cue, Cloud's hands then moved, one onto the small of her back just above the band of her sweatpants, underneath where her tank top had ridden up and the other to the back of her head, pushing her closer, deeper. They was beginning to find it hard to breath, but neither seemed to care.

She was so damn soft, yet he knew how easily she could pin him, especially due to his now limited strength. The idea excited him more than should be considered normal and he found himself unexpectedly inhibited. The secrets were out, the problems (for the most part) resolved and he found himself wanting her for no other reason than because he was a man, and she was a beautiful woman. One that he happened to consider as his best friend. Someone he could trust to completely bare himself to, all flaws on display, and still be measured as the best of the batch.

The fact the she had chosen him, despite all his issues, despite years of pushing her away...someone still willing to give that much of herself to him after all of that run-around was so -for lack of a better word - _hot_. So he continued kissing her, exploring her. Relishing that he could, that she was not only letting him, but encouraging him to.

Perhaps this was what they needed. An act of simultaneous apology, forgiveness, reassurance and, not to mention, stress release. It would have been so easy. He could envision the exact steps that this night could lead to. He could practically already feel how good it would be to just lose himself inside her and let the terrors of the last month drain away, making it all worth it.

The epitome of temptation.

But not yet...

"Tifa...stop..." he muttered, barely audible over heavy breathing, creaking floor boards, and lips that were otherwise preoccupied. Not surprisingly, she didn't hear it. Just continued to kiss him, press herself against him, continuing to dismantle any concept he may have once had of patience.

Life was too short.

Wasn't it?

But no shorter than it had to be...

"STOP." He sprang to his feet then and backed himself into a far corner of the room. The reaction may have been a tad exaggerated, but it was all he could do to not risk being drawn in again. Those pills he was on...maybe they were making him a little TOO human. Resisting had never before been this excruciating.

From her spot on the floor, Tifa shakily wiped her lips, also wondering what had come over her. "How soon can you get me those supplements?" she asked with a heavy breath.

Cloud already had his phone in his hand, dialing the research facility.

* * *

As the sun peaked over the horizon, Tifa and Cloud found themselves in the kitchen, sharing a pot of coffee from opposite ends of the table.

He had since showered, shaved and dressed himself in a simple grey t-shirt with matching drawstring pants, feeling fresh, comfortable and calm. At home for the first time in what felt like ages.

Tifa brought him up to speed on all the goings on in Edge. How the school was nearly completed and would be ready to accept students in the Fall. How Yuffie's help at the bar had nearly octupled profits. How she had accidentally botched the adoption interview, but had since appealed to the committee that she had been under exceptional stress, and they had yet to hear the final decision. How the WRO suspected terrorist activities from some unknown faction of the old Shinra Company, and Reeve had warned her to keep on her toes.

Cloud accepted this news with a gentle nod, wholeheartedly agreeing that they should look to purchase some new land outside of the city and perhaps, slowly, build a franchise 7th Heaven along with a new, larger house. Tifa showed off the newspaper clipping she had collected advertising such lots, and they made plans for visits later on in the week.

They had kissed again, by accident, after they had both reached for the pot and their fingers inadvertently brushed. It had been long and deep and intense, but the new setting encouraged them to keep it, relatively, innocent. At least from what could be seen above the table top.

They were on their fourth cup, purposefully keeping their distance while going over some financing issues, when the kitchen door opened.

There stood Marlene, her eyes glassy and wide, enveloped by her favorite furry, pink bathrobe. The knuckles of her hand, still grasping the door knob, were practically white and her lips lightly parted. Tifa knew the expression well. But this, he, was no dream.

"Hi." Cloud said, turning his chair around to face the entranceway.

Marlene's lips snapped shut, eyes shifting toward Tifa for some hint as to how she should react. But her mother figure was giving no instructions. Despite his departure having been revealed as having good reason, it didn't change the fact that he had left them. Again. Without even saying goodbye. Whether the girl wanted to scream or hit or laugh or cry or simply turn around and leave, that was her own prerogative. He would have to deal with whatever course she chose.

Luckily, Marlene had always been a cheerleader for team Strife. As long as he pulled it together for the finale, an entire season of fumbles would forever be forgiven.

So she ran, bunny slippers being kicked into the air in her wake, and then she was hugging him. As tightly as her tiny arms would allows, fingers digging into his neck. Tifa watched Cloud's eyes press firmly shut as he returned the gesture, pulling the little girl so close that her feet left the floor.

"Happy Birthday Marlene," he whispered, pressing a kiss into the crown of her hair before leaning his cheek against it. And Marlene, never having been one to attempt suppressing emotions, promptly broke out into joyful tears.

It was the best gift she could have asked for.

**Author's Note:** Whoa. Long-ass chapter people and for that I am sorry. It was just such an awkward conversation to write that I needed to keep adding tangents, explanations, pauses and arguments in order to get it out right. Definitely one of the most frustrating things I've ever had to invent in words, and definitely the most I've ever had to cut, paste and reorganize paragraphs within one document. It's still not my version of perfect but I needed to move on!

On a personal note with this chapter's "mature" content, though I know Final Fantasy is a completely different world with (annoyingly) very few sexual references, I find many fics avoid the very real issues that are attributed to sex, most of them physical. I remember once discussing with a friend who was born HIV positive how awkward it was to bring up the disease with boyfriends, more than one already having decided that it wasn't worth the risk and therefore dumping her. It's a...strange situation, one that I can't even imagine having to go through. But it is a good test of love if someone is willing to be and stay with you through all that, and as long as you are careful and smart about it, you have to coast forward on the mere hope that things will end up okay in the end.

Anyway, didn't mean to get all preachy on people, but I do so enjoy mirroring real life issues into the realm of Final Fantasy. It makes the character more human to me. Cloud's sickness (also coincidentally his source of power), the reason he left them all in the first place, still isn't completely gone and I assume would continue to harangue him in this imaginary future. At the end of ACC, Aerith had restored just enough of his confidence to finally let them all breach his emotional wall. But to get close as two human beings can possibly get, both mentally and physically, that will require a little more preparation.

Till next chapter. Thanks for all the reviews! (seriously, if it wasn't for their constant stream, this chapter, due to its difficulty, probably would have taken me months of rewrites).

Love you all.


	13. Endurance

Reminder summary_: The story begins when Cloud proposes to Tifa, and she blatantly refuses. Her reason? Up until that point they had been mere friends and the marriage was simply a ploy to aid their adoption of Marlene and Denzel, solidifying their family status in the WRO's new census. Tifa insists they begin with dating if that is his goal and, not to anyone's surprise, they become close. This becomes a problem however when she wants to become even closer, and Cloud begins to wonder about what exactly the mako poisoning has done to him, concerned that he may be physiological danger. In a leap of faith, he seeks out a dreaded medical-research facility and submits to testing. After weeks of trials, it is determined that with a combination program of him suppressing his jenova cells, and she beginning a treatment to resist them, there would be very little chance of her contracting the poison. However, the side effects are sever and primarily unknown due to the technology's youth. One must simply roll the dice and hope for the best._

* * *

"_God places the heaviest burdens on those who can carry its weight."_

**- ****Reggie White**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter XIII:_ Endurance_

The world became black.

But only for a second or two.

And then, just as unexpectedly, it returned once more in full, nauseating brightness and bass-heavy surround sound. Whether it was tears or blood blurring her sight, she couldn't tell. The world had becoming punishingly clear.

Clinking glasses. Rambunctious laughter. Repetitive music. Cries coming from the left, from the right, _from everywhere_, demanding fresh drinks, new napkins, cleared plates, hotter food, the last shreds of her sanity served up, steaming, on a silver platter garnished with lemon wedges and sage.

She took a deep breath, but only one. One was all she could afford.

People were depending on her.

A bundleberry soda and ginger brew for table five. A no. 4 tonic with only a splash of water, no ice, for the man with the eye patch sitting at the bar's end. A behemoth steak, as rare as possible, with a side salad, no onions. A grilled cheese, extra fries for freckles. A white wine spritzer for the on-duty escort and a plum juice for her anxious client.

There was a sudden crash loud enough to rattle the floorboards, but in the blink of an eye it was forgotten.

Now where the heck did she put that paprika?

"**Tifa**!" someone called harshly. Then there was a hand on her shoulder, yanking her away from the pile of broken glass that she didn't remember handling, despite the evidence of her bloodied fingers.

Her automatic reaction was to laugh, and she had no idea why. There was nothing particularly funny about bleeding, and her companion seemed to agree.

"Darn-it all." A deep sigh was breathed against her ear. "Geez Tifa, what has gotten into you tonight?"

She tried to respond, but instead only chuckled some more.

Another sigh was released, this one saturated with frustration.

"Man, you're being weird right now. Can't say he didn't warn me."

"_Warn_..._you_?"

The world went black again.

Then, in what seemed like a mere blink, a petite figure was crouched before her, wrapping the last of nine band-aids around her various fingers.

Tifa winced, finally fully conscious of both the pain and the embarrassment of her actions. Not to mention the migraine that was threatening to make her brain leak out of her ears.

"S-Sorry Yuffie," she muttered while shaking her bangs out of her eyes, feeling their sweat-soaked heaviness against her forehead. The movement made her feel nauseous again, but she forced it down and away with a staggering breath; a method she had had much practice with over the past few weeks.

"Yeah, sorry my butt. You're _supposed_ to be resting."

"I was! I was planning to. But then," she turned her ear toward the kitchen doors and, if only for an instant, again heard the amplified chaos as loudly as if she were standing in the middle of it all. Voices, music, dishes and dirt. Someone had just spilled their drink. Another was complaining that their order was taking forever. A couple snuck into the bathroom stall together for some "privacy". She could hear it all. Every sound, syllable and sigh.

It had been, quite literally, driving her mad.

Another deep breath and she managed to block it out, enveloping herself in the once unappreciated noises of plain kitchen tinkering. Never had the clanking of a loose utensil in the dishwasher along with the sizzle of a fryer ever brought anyone such relief.

"It started to seem…busy," was her pathetic excuse for being up and about, to which Yuffie responded with a cocked eyebrow.

"It is busy. Which is why you're supposed to be upstairs so that I don't have to waste time following you around with a dust pan, first aid kit and duct tape."

In the midst of pulling herself up by the counter edge, ignoring the hand that was offered, Tifa paused. She understood the first two items but "why the duct tape?"

"Oh, for your mouth of course." Following her boss' lead, the ninja sprang to her feet, nonchalantly slapping the dust off her palms. "Just in case you decide to lecture yet another customer on the proper way to wield a fork, or how to repair their terrible breath or (and this one was my favorite) offer jobs to any more of the HoneyBee girls."

Still crouched, only a few inches off the floor, Tifa's brow furrowed as she struggled to remember the past hour. It bothered her to realize how quickly she trusted the accusations, even though less than a month ago she never would have deemed herself capable of such clumsy, rude and downright stupid behavior. She considered an attempt to rectify the situation by appealing to Yuffie's youth and pity. It would be easy to convince the girl to let her stay by reminding her that this was one of the first nights in years she was without both Cloud and the children and therefore deserved some "fun". If she managed to ward off another episode for just another half hour, she could catch up on some orders, offer some apologies and revoke some unwise, possibly illegal business dealings.

Or she could end up making things that much worse.

With a groan of defeat, Tifa's hand shot out to grasp her friend's, and together they managed to bring her to her unstable feet.

"I'm going back to bed," she announced with a firm nod, all concentration focused on remaining upright.

Yuffie nodded her approval. "Good plan."

"And, um…the HoneyBee girl? Can you, um…"

"Inform her that the position of cute, sassy, attention-seeking barmaid of questionable morals has already been filled? Done."

"Yes. Good. Thanks."

Eventually, using the counter and various pieces of furniture for support, Tifa somehow managed to navigate her way back toward the stairs. In the minute it took her to return to her bedroom and nose-dive onto the mattress, the cycle had begun again. The painfully bright vision, the brain melting migraine and, as always, the noise. Scraping utensils. Sloshing liquid. Footsteps. Machines. Cars. People chewing, drinking, laughing. Walls away yet echoing as loudly as her own choked breaths.

She could do nothing more than shut her eyes, desperately press the pillows up against the sides of her head, and pray for it all to end.

* * *

He had never parked Fenrir on the street before.

There had never been a reason or a point.

After all, their garage was just around the corner, adding a mere seventeen seconds to his route; a small price to pay for peace of mind. For as feared and respected as he was, there were still many desperate people living on the streets of Edge despite the WRO's upgrades. And desperate people made for stupid people. Stupid people who would rush to grab any shiny and unattended object regardless of its owner or its nearly impossible to manage steering without enhanced reflexes or, not to mention, multiple compartments that contained hidden blades on springs.

It wasn't for _his_ safety that the contraption never failed to make it into the garage each and every time it returned home. Last thing this family needed was a civil lawsuit on top of everything.

But tonight…tonight he didn't even think about it. As soon as that familiar door came into his line of vision, there seemed to be no choice but to head straight towards it.

Seventeen seconds was suddenly much too long a wait.

While still several meters away and though many walls lay between, he could already hear her, smell her. Above the roar of the engine, he could note the tinkling of her nails hitting the glass she was washing, the creak of the floorboards as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Laced into the wind alongside the usual smoke, metal and sweet liquor was her distinct scent; one of soap and leather and sweat. More sweat than usual, he noted fretfully. And her breath was also deeper, slower, as if she was taking great care with each one.

Cloud's lips curved downwards as he shut off the ignition and swung his leg over the side, his enhanced senses confirming the expected yet still disturbing conclusion.

It was getting worse.

He hesitated once on the threshold, debating what to say, what to do, anything that would make her see sense. To see that they couldn't go on like this. Proof that it wasn't worth it.

Nothing came to mind.

He could have driven Fenrir around the entire block by the time he decided to venture in unarmed, realizing she had probably long since detected his arrival anyway. Lately, some of her senses had begun to eclipse his own as the medications they were both on began to make their glaring mark. It was odd, to say the least. Only three days prior, for example, Tifa had managed to sneak up on him while he was trying to re-ignite the water heater's pilot light in the dark and silent basement. He discovered then how startling being startled can be when you have not been startled by anything for years_._ Thank goodness Tifa was fast on her feet and had the flames out before they could spread to the liquor storage, while he could do nothing more but stand there and try to remember how to breathe.

Odd indeed...but not always in such a hazardous way. Of course, he could no longer survive off of one hour of sleep a night, but that made it much easier to stick to a schedule along with the rest of the city. He found lately that he needed to eat more to maintain a certain energy level, and that granted him a new appreciation for 7th Heaven's impressive menu, as dining was no longer a mere chore. There was also, of course, the _other_ thing; the strange and drastic rearrangement of both his mind and his body's priorities. Vexing though it was, it was also diagnosed as very normal for a man his age by both his doctors and the few friends he had the courage to consult. Especially normal, they all assured him, when in the company of a woman like Tifa.

With a small grin on his lips as he celebrated the miracle of all these reverse-enhancements, Cloud slowly began to push open the heavy oaken door to 7th Heaven, to his home. An action that though usually gratifying, also reminded him of the primary horrific effect included within the mako suppressants.

The door was heavy.

He had always known it was. He bought it specifically for that reason, to avoid swinging and letting in any more of the frigid winter air than necessary. He had always known, but never _felt_ it before. He had never experienced the resistance he did now, even if all it demanded was just a slight extra effort, it was still an immensely unappreciated change. For as pleasant and freeing and all-around comforting as "being close-to-normal" had made him, it also made him something he hadn't been considered in years, something he promised himself he'd never feel again.

It made him weak. Weak in every way. Especially when he laid his eyes on her.

"Cloud." She said his name curtly; half greeting, half accusation, and he could not help but wince in response. She was in one of her more hostile moods. And though she had every reason to be, it was not the sort of welcome he had wished for on the long journey home tonight.

Slowly, almost as if he were facing a cobra and not his partner, Cloud approached the bar and took his usual stool. He sat there for a few seconds, staring her down as she aggressively scrubbed the sink, and debated his words, unsure of his intentions, when a cough to his left interrupted all thought.

For the second time since he was sixteen, Cloud was startled and jumped a little in his seat with overstated surprise. A customer had been sitting right next to him, sloppily sipping at the dregs of his tankard and he hadn't noticed. Strange.

"Need anything?" she asked with attempted ease, though something in her tone suggested that he'd pay for it later if he actually requested the desired glass of Corel wine to take the edge off. Instead, he shook his head and glanced at the clock on the back wall in order to confirm the time. 2:48 it read. Only twelve more minutes until closing and this last straggler could be forced out. He would simply have to wait.

Gods, how he hated waiting.

For more than he needed sleep, more than food, more than any other of his body's new requirements, he now needed to talk to her. So badly in fact, that twelve minutes was deemed much too long.

* * *

At 2:49 Tifa's business phone-line rang and she stomped off to the kitchen to answer it, leaving the two occupants of her bar alone together.

"7th Heaven, Tifa speaking. How can I help you?" she grumbled into the receiver, praying against all odds that it was a telemarketer with a broken clock that she could rip apart for rudeness rather than an actual customer or supplier.

To her surprise, it was neither. Just the soft buzzing of white noise followed by an oddly bright echo of a slamming door. It didn't take long for her to deduce what had happened. And when she returned to the bar, not thirty seconds after she had originally turned her back, to no one's surprise Cloud suddenly sat alone.

Tifa could only sigh as she returned to her washing.

"You shouldn't have done that. He was a paying customer."

"... He had people waiting for him."

She could have fought, had every reason to be angry, but she also knew that her anger sourced from elsewhere and was therefore unwarranted. Instead, she choose to remain silent and finish her task.

Cloud watched her for a while in silence which, back in the day, she would have translated as indifference. But now, thanks to her enhanced senses, she could practically taste the anxiety in the air. The way he shifted a little in his seat, the slight increased production of saliva and sweat, his warm eyes radiating into her even across the bar. It was as bad as if he were screaming at the top of his lungs.

"I'm FINE!" she asserted, feeling unexpectedly smothered.

Cloud's jaw clenched. "You promised that Yuffie would be taking care of the bar this week. You're in the midst of a textbook bad reaction. The doctors told us that-"

"I know what they said!" she snapped back. How dare he think she could forget. "Yuffie overdid it with the participation shots and I felt better, so I sent her home. Didn't want to deal with her snoring tonight. Besides, weren't you not supposed to be back from Mideel until tomorrow? You know you're not supposed to attempt those all-night drives anymore."

"I didn't. I shortened the contract so that I could get back early and take care of you."

At this her eyes widened and, by no conscious act of her own, the silver tankard in her hand crumpled under the pressure. "Dammit Cloud," she muttered angrily, tossing the ruined piece into the trash so furiously that it pushed the entire bin across the room before falling over. "Did you even think to consult me...?"

"We don't need the gil that badly."

"I promised Tym I'd get the down payment to him by the end of the week! He already started the foundation running on only good faith."

"I'll take care of it. We'll figure it out, maybe delay construction if need be. We don't need the house right now. What we can't survive without is you."

"I can't lay around all day and try to _will_ my body into coping better, Cloud. It's not working. Just let me deal with this my own way. It's only a few more weeks."

Without another word, she returned to washing dishes with an increased vigor. Putting all the pent of frustrations she had stored into the simple goal of cleanliness. She scrubbed until her hands were raw and bleeding, but felt neither the pain nor the usual pleasure at a job well done.

It would pass, they told her.

The injections they were giving her were but a small, inconsequential dose of the Jenova virus, forcing her body to build natural antibodies to the poison. For all intents and purposes, it was working perfectly. Especially for an experimental procedure. Considering that there was no known danger of psychological effects, after the first few days she had politely refused the recommended two month stay in the research facility. Quite frankly, regardless of her being extremely uncomfortable there, the family simply couldn't afford the time off work. The WRO's tax was severely limiting their profits as well as new, similar establishments popping up in Edge every day. In addition to everything, the new, high-standard school Reeve had promised them was demanding several unexpected costs such as uniforms, meals plans and textbooks.

So here she was, week five of the treatment. Perfectly healthy except for the occasional vomiting, migraines, cramps, memory lapses and, perhaps, a slightly shortened temper. She thought she had been brilliant in her management of the side-effects and her home life until Cloud had, without her permission, brought the kids to stay with Barret on vacation "for your own good" until classes began. Then Yuffie had pushed her into taking over the majority of the night shifts, and though she resisted at first, one could not deny the improvement in earnings due to the decision. It was all evidence against her much needed delusion of coping, and for that she couldn't help but hate them all.

Especially him, for whom she had started this whole thing. And for what? Five weeks and they had only the mutual courage/stamina/peace of mind to be with each other twice. That fact alone was the most infuriating of all.

"Tifa," he began as the uncomfortable stillness stretched passed its ridiculous point. "I've...I've been thinking."

_'Well that's something new,'_ was her chosen retort, but she wisely kept it to herself.

"I think," he paused then, taking a moment to swallow the nervous lump in his throat. "I think you should stop the treatment. At least for the time being."

Her reflexive reaction was to scoff, but she bit it down. He wasn't trying to be controlling, she forced herself to acknowledge, he was simply upset. "Why?"

"Because..." he prompted, hoping that the rest of the sentence was obvious. Alas, her glare proved that she was in no mood for mad-libbing. "Because it's hurting you."

"Cloud, I said I'm fine."

"But you're not. I know you're not."

"You don't know anything."

In an unusual show of passion, Cloud slammed his fists on the counter so hard that every glass in the bar rattled, causing Tifa to jump. He then took a deep breath to rein it in and softly pressed his palms again the counter top to steady the shaking. Testosterone takes a while to get used to, he was discovering. "Please. Please stop lying to me."

At this, the unstable flame of her temper flared once more. "Just because I don't agree with you doesn't mean-"

"No. Stop. This isn't about us." He fell back into his stool, frustrated that it had to get to this point. "Do you really think I don't notice? That I don't see what's been going on? Can't you tell that it's killing me to see you like this? Do you even _care_?"

Tifa could do nothing but press her lips together, knowing that any and all of the words bubbling on her tongue would do more harm than good in this situation. How dare he ask if she _cared_. It certainly wasn't for personal kicks that she was poisoning herself on a daily basis. She was doing it for their mutual peace of mind. So that maybe someday, as soon as possible, they could have some meager semblance of a normal relationship. Her _caring_ should be the least of his uncertainties.

She didn't reply for long, tense seconds, eyes glue to wall behind his head as if it were charging battalion, and Cloud all-too-quickly fell victim to the very human trait of impatience.

"Fine. Never mind. I'm going to bed." The stool fell over in his haste to leave the bar and the resulting clatter was shrill enough to make Tifa's eardrums nearly rupture. Time seemed to slow down then as she watched him pass on the way to the staircase and, suddenly, she was viewing this exact same scene from a different angle, from another time.

Cloud sitting alone, silent and apparently catatonic, as _she_ stormed upstairs following yet another fruitless argument. Mere months ago, before the remnants attacked. They had discussed it recently, back before he had discovered the mako research facility, of how much easier their lives could have been if he had had the courage to tell them about his geostigma. Denzel would have been more confident for one, to know he wasn't going through it alone. Marlene would have supplied him with an infallible source of hope. And Tifa, well, she would have fretted and worried and become a nervous wreck of course. But at least she wouldn't have felt so horrifically powerless and lost as she did during those dark days.

In a rare moment of clarity, Tifa then saw herself as Cloud must see her - much like she used to see him. Strong, but broken. Needing support, but unwilling and unable to accept it. Much like a wounded wolf, blindly lashing out in a few last desperate attempts to prove, to retain, its ferocity.

She wanted, so badly, for them to be happy and normal and all around complete. Finishing this treatment, pushing through it, had once been considered the road to that. But at what cost?

In the haze of her daydream, she saw what must have been her own hand reach out and grasp the sleeve of his sweater. Tugging with an unexpected desperation. He froze, but didn't dare to face her. Not yet.

"If I stop now," she began nervously, needing to voice her primary concern. "we won't be able to-"

"I know. I'll live."

"But you told me...you said it's been bothering you lately. You said it's practically a new compulsion. If I do this, it may be a while before-"

"I don't care. I'll wait."

Though he still wasn't facing her, Tifa nodded. Of course he would wait. The rush was all in her head, charging towards that glittery happy ending and ignoring the life-filled sidelines.

"Okay..." she heard herself conceding in a choked voice, almost without her brain's full participation. A fragment of her true self had managed to shine through the haze of pain to do what needed to be done first and foremost; protect the ones she loved. Cloud turned and his blue-green eyes finally met hers with a greater-than-usual intensity, easily solidifying her resolve. She felt herself nodding again, for both their reassurance. "Yes. I'll stop. You're right, I'm- it's making me sick and...and kind of...mean. I'll stop tonight, until more research has been done and its safer. It makes the most sens-"

She was interrupted by his hands on her neck, vigorously pulling her towards him across the counter top. A giggle of relief automatically escaped her lips as they met his, amused by the fact that he seemed to have adopted her eagerness where he was once so deliberate and sensible.

They kissed for long minutes, despite the awkwardness of their bartender-customer positions, both too worried of fumbling the fragile moment to dare pause. The unspoken consequence of interrupting the treatments had somehow inspired a newfound energy between them. Tonight may be the last chance in a long while; a fact that Cloud seemed very well aware of as his fingers reached for her vest's zipper.

"I can stop," he muttered after pulling it down a mere inch. Always the concerned gentleman.

Tifa could only grin more widely. "Don't you dare."

After all, this was the very reason she had endured all the headaches, nausea and memory lapses so far. Being as close to him as anyone can and no one else had ever been. It had all been worth it, to a point. They'd schedule an appointment to see the doctor tomorrow to discuss other options. But for tonight at least, her chances of contracting the poison were still nearly insignificant, the bar was closed, the kids were away and her head was miraculously no longer throbbing. Tonight she intended, she needed, to take advantage to this rare and precious peace of mind.

Unwilling to break their lip lock, Tifa soon found herself half climbing, half being pulled over the counter, accidentally kicking over a few casualty wine glass in her haste to get closer and surprisingly not caring.

"I missed you..."

"_I_ missed you."

It happened in a blur, the same mind-warping rush as always. A haze of tongues and teeth and nails and skin. It was the only time her heightened senses were more of an asset than a hindrance. Another significant thing she did note as they lay there afterward on the bar floor struggling to catch their breath, wrapped around only each other and a stained tablecloth; she had in fact never, ever, felt so...vital.

Though their physical relationship was such a new, rare and therefore relatively trivial portion of their life together, in the heat of it nothing else ever seemed more significant, more fulfilling. Not even breathing.

"We really should have gone upstairs," Cloud remarked as he extricated a discarded fork from under his thigh and tossed it toward the bar.

Tifa giggled, burying her face into his shoulder in embarrassment. "Sorry. It's been a long few days. I was restless."

"My very content mind forgives you, but my back is still a little sore. You may have noted that I'm not as agile as I used to be."

"You are still plenty agile Mr. Strife. I would know."

Cloud laughed, a sound that never failed to get her heart beating faster if only due to its rarity. One year ago, she could never have even imagined that they'd end up here. Content, mostly healthy, naked and laughing in each other's arms on 7th Heaven's slightly sticky floor.

It was paradise.

"Well, at least now we can say we've tried it," Tifa rationalized as she reached up to the table top above them to grab her t-shirt "but this will most likely be a onetime thing. After all, there's too much potential for way worse things to happen."

"Agreed," said Reeve.

Cloud's head hit the table bottom with alarming force as he sat bolt upright.

Startled for a third time, and really not enjoying it so far.

"Reeve!" exclaimed Tifa as she hastily pulled her top over her head. "What are you doing here?" In a flurry of movements she had on the most important pieces of her clothing and had Cloud's piled on his lap where he sat, rubbing his disheveled hair and wincing.

As she shot up between the tables to face the head of the WRO, she noted with relief that he was still far across the room, highlighted in the entranceway by the glow of the streetlamps. As her eyes adjusted, she prepared for some sort of teasing smirk and maybe even a cringe of disgust. But when his expression finally came into view, her heart began to sink into her stomach.

Of course, there were very few reasons that spurred the head of the WRO to make house calls at three in the morning, and none of them were ever good.

As loudly as though he were less than a foot away, she heard him swallow, heard him take a deep, shaky breath and then, in a whisper that no normal human ears could have picked up at such a distance, she heard him mutter two dreaded words.

"...I'm sorry."

* * *

"So we'll get an appeal," Cloud was attempting to rationalize as he sat cross-legged on the edge of their bed. Tifa's newly mako-infused cells plus her own natural nervousness did not allow her the luxury of sitting still. "It's not over yet."

"An entire committee deemed us unfit parents Cloud." Her hands tugged at the letter in her hands with reanimated hostility as she paced the carpet, as if hoping she could bully its contents into changing. "I don't need it doubly confirmed."

"The committee is made up of the paranoid and privileged who don't understand the needs of the basic family. Their desire to be considered objective is leading them to ignore the fact that exceptions do exist. A jury of our peers will be different. Reeve said so."

"Reeve...Reeve obviously can't do anything right." She had wanted to punch him when he told them there was nothing he could do. Like hell he couldn't. She would have gone through with it too if the sudden and intense resurgence of her symptoms hadn't stolen her ability to move and speak and stay conscious. "We were stupid to trust him."

"He's not a tyrant, Tifa. He's an elected official and can't simply fabricate loopholes to help his friends. We'll find another _official _way. We'll get the appeal."

"And if that doesn't work? What then?"

"Then...we'll apply to foster. We have options, Tifa. Please, just...calm down."

Though calming down was the last thing she felt she had the ability to do, one look at his pleading expression force her to try. So she sat herself on the bed beside him and didn't resist when an arm snaked around her shoulder to pull her closer. He may not have been as warm as he used to be, nor smell as strongly of mako-menthol, but one could not deny the unnatural comfort his simple closeness gave to her.

"It's not fair..." After all they had been through, the statement was redundant. But it needed to be said anyway. He held her tighter in response, as soothing words were never and would probably never be one of his strengths. "How is it that just as the world is getting better for everyone else, it's keeps getting worse and worse for us?"

Cloud remained silent.

They sat like that for several minutes, reveling in the harsh mysteries of life.

After a long while, Cloud broke the silence with a sigh and stood up to walk to his dresser. Tifa watched him with only mild interest, distracted as she was, while he fumbled around in his sock drawer.

"This wasn't how I wanted to do this," he said before tossing something toward her, which she caught with ease.

She didn't even have to open her hand to know what it was. The shape and feel and weight of it was enough.

With a long sniff to hide all traces of emotion, Tifa casually tossed the ring back. "I don't think being married will help at this point. The jury will know it's for show since the committee rejected us."

"I'm not proposing again Tifa. I'm giving you a present." He tossed it again, and again she caught it. This time however, she dared to take a peek. It was a thick platinum band, sized perfectly for her index finger, four shimmering, appropriately sized, square gems embedded flat along its rim. Marlene, Denzel, her and Cloud's birthstones. It was practical for her hard-working hands, modest to match her unassuming style, yet sparkly enough to appeal to her veiled femininity. Much more her style than the gaudy, heart-shaped meteorite that he had offered her originally, all those weeks ago.

"I was told it was for promises. And I..._appreciate_ promises. I trust them. More than anything. So Tifa..." with an indecisive grin on his lips, he went down on his knees before her and, though unexpected, she couldn't help but burst out into happy, amused and primarily desperate tears which he thankfully ignored. "With this ring, I promise that we'll get through this. Together. All four of us. I don't know how, but we will. If only because we have to. Alright?"

Tifa nodded and allowed him to slip the ring onto her finger. Not necessarily because she believed, but because what else could you do when the man you love, such a notoriously stoic man as Cloud, made such a distressed plea? What else could you do but hug him and kiss him and make love to him once more, hoping against all hope that, together, you could make the impossible possible?

Especially when, unbeknownst that night, a top-secret branch of SOLDIER called Deepground was within days of launching a long awaited attack. And a whole new war was about to begin.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The usual excuses for taking a long time to update, but slightly more "grown-up" this time around. I have a new game-industry job and just now cashed in my first week of vacation. Bought a house which requires constant maintenance. I'm getting married in June (to a man who bought me FFXIII-2 collector's edition for Xmas w00t!) and am spending a lot of my free time tying favor ribbons and seeking out linen rentals. My sister broke up with her partner, making me part-time parent of a 1 and a 4 year old...blah, blah, blah. But fanfiction is still one of my favorite ways of blowing off steam, though it now takes me an extremely long time to pump out an entire chapter's worth during my short spurts of alone time.

Thank you for sticking with me, especially those that sent slightly threatening/sweet private messages & reviews to encourage me to continue. Sometimes, I just type out point form stories to have fun, but its for you guys that I turn it into cohesive chapters. I actually have a 60 page FFXIII one going on now, but God help me if I ever have FOUR unfinished stories on this site that I still take seriously.

I'm looking forward to having a completed fic soon, finally, so please keep up your encouragement. Hope I continue to entertain.

**Call for Beta Reader:** One of the primary factors that keeps me from updating quickly is that I know I have a tendency for grammar and spelling typos. So I take a few days to re-read things a couple of times and STILL end up with dumb mistakes due to writer-blindness that I only notice months later. Its infuriating because I pride myself on knowing the difference between "it's" and "its" and "there", "their" and "they're" and "inflection" vs. "inFECtion" which someone pointed out to me in a review last chapter. Gah! I'm no Tolstoy, but I don't want to be Candace Bushnell either (if you enjoy "sex and the city" the show, please, for your own good, don't read any of the creator's original books. They're terrible).

Long story short, if anyone feels they are committed to fanfiction and foresees still be interested for many, many months (hell, I've been doing this for nearly ten years now :O ) and fulfills the following requirements to beta-read my chapters, please let me know.

1._ Interest in multiple Final Fantasy worlds_: I have ongoing stories in FFX, FFVIII and FVII and would prefer to have one, dependable editor for all my works. One whom, preferably, is a supporter of all three. Why? Because...

2. _Continuity errors_: For example, I just caught myself writing "heavy metal door" in this chapter, when I suddenly remembered that in chapter 5, I mentioned the door had been replaced by wood. A silly detail, yes. But one I would be so appreciative if something similar was brought to my attention before publishing. If only to humor those few hard-core (ie: anal) readers. Whom I love!

3. _Educated (high-school +) , above 17._ This is a tall order I know, since I'm one of the rare adults who keeps up with this type of thing. And I do admit that exceptions exist. But it is my preference that those who edit my work have as "relatively" high standards as I do (not professional obviously - because then you should be working on your own stuff!- but high enough). I am currently working on a Master's thesis in my field of game design, and know the importance of grammar in being taken seriously. Also, due to some 17+ rated content, I don't want to corrupt any minors.

4. _Creative/Open-__minded_: Though grammar and continuity errors are my biggest issues, I also don't mind being told "this paragraph is terrible". I'm lazy sometimes, just wanting to get a chapter out, and would love some constructive criticism. Even re-write suggestions!

5._ Microsoft Word "Review" experience:_ At my work, we often use to Word "review" tools to edit text, and I've found it so helpful in learning from my mistakes, since you can track changes and add comments. Please either know or be willing to learn this amazing tool.

That is all. Looking forward to next chapter!

- May (Nancy)


	14. Rational Numbers

"_A little simplification would be the first step toward rational living, I think."_

**- ****Eleanor Roosevelt**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter XIV:_ Rational Numbers_

"Aww, hell..."

"Marlene! Language!"

"Sorry. Didn't mean it."

"Fine. Where is your tie?"

"I don't know."

"Damn it!"

"Denzel!"

"Sorry!"

"Argg! Where did my bag go?"

"It's in the kitchen. Make sure you have your lunch."

"Crap."

"DENZEL!"

"SORRY! But these shoes don't fit right."

"What? They were fine last week?"

"Well, apparently, I'm bigger."

"Umm, did you put almonds in my pudding? I can't eat them, remember?"

"Dammit."

"Cloud!"

"Sorry."

"For the love of..."

"Tifa!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I'M HERRREEEE!" Yuffie jettisoned herself across 7th Heaven's threshold with a twirling flourish, fully prepared for a stampede of excited squealing and hugs. This was the day of all days after all. Every Midgarian child she had spotted over the past week had been buzzing with anticipation, proudly strutting with their uniforms and books, almost salivating at very notion of learning. It was a celebration which she strived to bask in during its inevitably short lifespan of, best case scenario, forty-eight hours.

Alas, the Strife-Lockheart-Wallace household seemed to be distracted with other things. Though she could hear the jumble of their voices close by, no one was making any effort to greet her.

"Hmph," she muttered with her hands on her hips. "And after all that effort I made to-"

"Yuffie!" Tifa unexpectedly came barreling through the kitchen door. At least, what used to be Tifa did. The wide-eyed, mess of a woman approaching was wearing a stained tank top and sweatpants, her usually free flowing hair was a half-done, unwashed braid and her face was dotted with flour; hardly recognizable as the owner of this notoriously fine establishment. In one arm she was balancing a precarious heap of folded gym clothes, various luncheables and textbooks while the other had a life-threateningly firm grip on one of the house phones.

"Thank you. Thank you for coming so fast. I owe you." Hurriedly, she dumped the larger burden over and took a grateful step back, hugging the phone to her chest. "Don't forget to tell them about Marlene's allergies. Or-or that Denzel should probably be moved into advanced mathematics. Okay? I have to go. Thanks again." Without any more instruction, she suddenly spun and ran, leaving her bewildered and speechless friend struggling to balance the mass of stuff in her arms.

"Tifa, wait!" No sooner had she disappeared up the stairs, that her partner exited the kitchen, also looking uncharacteristically disheveled and, frankly, a little lost. He paused with one foot on the first step to follow her but then, slowly, stumbled back into the landing instead. There he lingered with his eyes focused so strongly on his toes one might think they were about to sprout talons.

Yuffie, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, eventually cleared her throat.

His eyes whipped toward her then with obvious surprise, offering only a brief nod to acknowledge her presence before also disappearing up the staircase.

_'What the heck...?'_

"Ready!" Marlene popped out of the kitchen, all smiles and sunshine in her new, pristine uniform and blindingly pink backpack. The sight of her was enough to bring Yuffie to instant tears and forget all about the parental unit's oddness.

"Ah! You look so gosh darn _beautiful_ Marley!" she sputtered in genuine awe.

"Why thank you _Madame_," she answered in her best, grown-up lady voice followed by a deep curtsey, holding out the hem of her navy tunic. Yuffie's heart nearly exploded with pride.

"Wonderful! And where's your handsome brother on this most epic of days?"

"Here." Behind her appeared Denzel, his eyes downcast with an unexpected air of misery. He was dressed in the standard navy pants and burgundy tie with the strap of a brand new leather bag slung across his chest, but was obviously not very happy about any of it. "I don't see the point in even going to school," he insisted. "They're just going to relocate us any day now anyway."

"You know that's not true." Cloud had returned, tripping on the last few stairs as he rushed forward to adjust Denzel's collar and brush off some invisible dust. "There are new standards now that Deepground's contained. The appeal went well. We just have to-"

"Whatever." Roughly, Denzel shrugged himself out of his once beloved guardian's clutches and moved to stand in front of Yuffie, gaze still fixed to the floor. "I don't care. Let's just get it over with."

"_Denzel_!" she exclaimed, shocked to the core since the boy had never shown anything but respect toward the man who had taken him in. She tried to meet Cloud's eyes, to come up with a silent, mutual plan to re-encourage him, but the SOLDIER was obviously distracted.

She realized then that something was wrong. Immensely wrong. For long, anxious seconds, the four of them stood awkwardly by the entranceway, waiting for someone, anyone, to break the tension.

It was the phone that did it in the end. A shrill ring that, for whatever reason, made Cloud suck in his breath. They all listened to the click of it being answered, the muffled voice of the greeting from upstairs, and then, an inexplicable, unnerving silence.

"You should go. You're going to be late," Cloud prompted, guiding the three of them toward the exit. But upon his hands landing on Yuffie's shoulders, he found she could not be budged.

"Unburden me, little ninjas," she commanded, and without further instruction Marlene and Denzel knew to empty her arms of their contents so that she could cross them over her chest and seem more menacing. "I think we'd all very much like to know what is going on here?"

"Yuffie...this isn't a good-" his eyes shifted to the ceiling just as a muffled shriek penetrated the house. In reaction, Cloud's hands moved to rub down his face as Marlene and Denzel shared a deliberate, disturbed look. She may have been out of the loop, but it didn't take a detective to figure out the basics. Especially when something smashed on the floor above, loud enough to make every one of them jump.

"_What the heck did you do Strife_?" she hissed menacingly.

Even if he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to answer. For seconds later, a blurry-eyed Tifa burst through the doorway with obvious fury on the tip of her tongue, the cordless phone still gripped in her hand, before she noticed the larger-than-expected audience.

"You-You should all be in school," she muttered to no one in particular, her fingers clenching and unclenching like a genuinely deranged person, "why aren't you in school?". As a collective unit, they all took one cautious step back.

"We're on our way," explained Yuffie with a raised eyebrow, her pupils swiveling between all the other family members, hoping for some sort of explanation in their stances. None of them had any to offer. "Relax Teef."

"Relax?" she repeated with an uncharacteristically shaky grin. "You want me to relax?"

"Tifa," Cloud found the courage to step forward, as strangely frightened though he seemed. "So...it's true?"

The barmaid took a deep breath, but her eyes filled with thick tears despite the effort. "You- you said this couldn't happen. I was told this couldn't happen, years ago. How do two **'not-going-to-happens'** equal it **happening**! It doesn't make any sense!"

"Tifa please. Calm down."

"YOU CALM DOWN!"

The phone was then vigorously chucked at him before she ran back up the stairs, but thanks to his still relatively fast relaxes, Cloud was able to catch it a mere inch from his face with little concern.

If the children found this odd, they said nothing. They merely began organizing their various school supplies into their bags while Yuffie stood there with a nearly unhinged jaw. She had never seen Tifa lose her temper like that. Even when fighting for their lives, she had always maintained composure, a master of her rage. It was practically unearthly for her to act in such a, frankly, _crazy_ manner.

"Seriously Cloud. What did you do?"

"Tifa's just been sick," explained Marlene with her usual optimism. "It's nobody's fault."

"Yeah," agreed Denzel as he closed his bag's zipper. "Since the Deepground attack, living in the caves, rebuilding, she's been a little...weird. It's no big deal. Just stress."

"You mean this has been going on for days?" Yuffie asked, stunned. "Well, what if it has something to do with those mako treatments she was on, huh Cloud? Have you asked one of the doctors about it?"

"Yes. Yes, of course we have," he muttered while rubbing the phone antennae between his closed eyes. "You guys...you'll be late for school. Get going."

"What? We can't just leave-"

He grabbed her bicep then, more roughly than he ever would have dared to in the past, and pulled her closer to his lips.

"_Not now," _ was his urgent plea. "_Not today. Let them have today." _

"Please," he finished out loud as he pulled away, knowing that the children would, thankfully, continue to play deaf.

Despite her curiosity, now turned to genuine worry, there was no ignoring that tone in his voice. Yes, something big was happening in this household. But she was no longer sure she needed or even wanted to know what it was.

"Marlene? Denzel?" Yuffie held out her hands and they, like the amazing and still anxious children that they were, eagerly took them. "Let's get you educated."

* * *

It was indeed the promised morning of epic proportions.

To celebrate Deepground's defeat in addition to the school's opening, the WRO had set up a small festival to welcome students and their families to Edge Elementary. Though it wasn't the most instructive version of a home-room class, Denzel and Marlene had both immediately dropped their tense demeanors as soon as the inflatable castle came into view.

It had been just what they needed to get their minds off of Tifa and Cloud.

Yuffie, however, didn't have the luxury of such a short attention span. Despite what others may think.

And though she bounced with them, slid with them, ate cotton candy and cheered louder than anyone after Reeve made his introductory speech, her mind always reverted to her two friends in their emotionally dilapidated bar, obviously going through something major. And when the time came to part with the children so that they could actually start learning, she feigned resistance, even going so far as to steal the air generator. But after a short chase and expected laughs, after all the kids were all lined up into their classes and marched into the beautiful new building, Yuffie stole away as fast as she could toward 7th Heaven and prepared to face whatever horrors it contained.

Of course, she was in-part simply curious because of her shameless drama-addiction. That would never change about her. Of course, selfishly, she worried how it may affect her taking over the bar's Edge location as a franchise, seeing as their new place in the country was nearly complete. But most of all, to her surprise, she worried about the Denzel specifically. Just seeing that look on his face, as if the case was already thrown out and they were all merely procrastinating packing for the orphanage. As if he was expecting it, just another harsh blow dealt by fate as soon as he started to feel safe again. Honestly, she wasn't sure if his bruised and battered spirit could handle another such loss. She didn't think he could survive it.

All of them, that entire family, had been through too much for this not to work. They just needed a little more time to prove how loved those kids were. Though, now that she thought about it, it may not be the best of times for someone to seek evidence of Tifa's mental stability.

Yuffie returned to the 7th Heaven to find Cloud exactly where she had left him a couple of hours prior; in the bar. Except now he was perched on a stool with a half-emptied glass of burgundy liquid in front of him and his forehead on the counter top.

Definitely not a good day to prove parental competence.

Gingerly, as if approaching an easily startled wild animal, Yuffie slid herself into the seat next to him and waited. On the upper floor she could hear the echo of someone stomping around, but decided that the other half of this enigma was still beyond the reach of reason.

"Sooo..." she began, tapping her fingers on the bar just beside his head. He twitched but otherwise remained ignorant of her presence. Nevertheless, she lingered, both sympathetic and persistent in her silence, knowing that his once infallible apathy had since become rather fragile.

"She's going to kill me," he eventually mumbled into the granite. "I intend to stay here until she does."

"Ah." Yuffie nodded, as if such an answer was expected. "Can't say I blame her."

"It's not my fault. They said it was _extremely_ unlikely. One in a million, that's what they told me. Therefore, it's really not my fault."

"Agreed."

That one word finally encouraged him to turn his head sideways on the counter and look at her, his glazed blue-green eyes searching for some sign of acceptance. Alas, despite her best efforts, all he found was bewilderment. "Never mind," he returned to pressing his face into the stone. "You don't understand."

"But I do...actually. I get it."

And suddenly she did, to her own surprise.

It was obvious once you stepped back from the situation and stripped away the labels of 'war hero' and 'business owner' and 'adoption applicant' and 'mako guinea pig' plus all the melodramatic baggage they included. There were already enough complications to choose from in simply being a man and a woman in a relationship. And this one especially, if her assumptions were correct, was quite the "complication". This couple in particular probably would have preferred another life threatening battle as opposed to such a relatively common, yet horrendously ill-timed game-changer.

She was about to console him, about to give him a rousing speech of how lucky they would find themselves in the end and how she'd to be around to help as often as she could, but then one strange fixation stuck out in her mind.

"Question: how exactly, except in the obvious way which I don't want to know anything about, are _you_ responsible for this? Why is it, specifically, your fault?"

Cloud sighed while blindly reaching out to drag his drink closer. This was the stupid part. "I skipped that test and didn't tell her. I didn't want to know, since the odds were so bleak anyway due to my lengthy exposure to mako plus Tifa's accident. I wanted to...pretend I was normal. If only in some minute way. I assumed it wouldn't matter."

"Uh-huhhhh..."

Tifa really was going to kill him, and by the laws of sisterhood and common decency, she could do nothing but sit back and watch. "That's pretty bad Cloud."

"There's more," he lifted his head long enough to take a swig of the thick, potent wine. "The supplements she was on, I ordered the purest dosage, without any of the recommended additional safeguards. I didn't think she'd want any more hormones and drugs pumped into her than strictly necessary. She hates medicines, you know?"

At this point, Yuffie had to sit on her hands to repress the urge to strike him. "Really? You didn't even talk to her about the options or risks? You simply figured 'it'll be fine' and just...wow. That's...quite terrible."

"_One in a million_," he reminded her with a solitary finger in the air above his head. "It's a freak of nature...just like me."

For the sake of her girl friend, she tried to hate him. She really did. But something about seeing this legendary warrior so anxious and helpless, it couldn't help but tug at her heartstrings.

"There, there," she muttered while giving him some stiff, half-hearted pats on the back. "Everything will turn out fine, you'll see? It's a surprise, but as far as surprises in our rather theatrical lives go, at least it's not the end of the world this time."

"There's...so many complications." Cloud finally pulled his head off the counter and took a deep breath, staring aimlessly into the drink shelves as if wishing to be lost in them. "Physical and emotional and social. She's angry at me for hiding things. Money's tight. We're fighting so hard still to keep Marlene and Denzel. I'm terrified she'll get hurt or...or killed by it. This...this complicates things."

That was putting it immensely lightly. There was so much to do and they barely had time to even think about doing all of it. Tifa may have to check into one of those dreaded research facilities, possibly for her entire term, if she hoped to get through it alive. The new bar opening would have to be delayed, meaning they wouldn't have the money to pay back the builders on time, which meant further loans, which meant more work hours, which they wouldn't be able to do if they were in confinement.

And Denzel and Marlene...if they didn't get an answer regarding the appeal soon, they would be shipped to the orphanage by the end of the month. They would have been sent already if Deepground hadn't appeared and rearranged the WRO's priorities. Worst case scenario, he had promised to go visit them every weekend while they tried to arrange for foster care. But if Tifa's case proved complicated, which it definitely would be, they may have to relocate to the Wutain center. They'd have to abandon them. Again.

He had also promised Barret he'd take a contract to test alternate energy sources. And Reeve with his military scouts training. And the school's spring-fling fair he had volunteered to help decorate.

All abandoned.

And for what?

"I don't think I can do this," he heard himself whisper to no one in particular, already mentally packing his bags. Just like Denzel had.

So he had failed. They had all failed in making their unconventional family work, despite true efforts. There was no shame in it. A lot of people merely bit off more than they could chew and ended up choking. It happened every day. He had known the risks when he moved in with Tifa and Marlene, started the business, then brought in Denzel, his proposal, the first time he kissed her...He had always known it was a precarious situation; building blocks one on top of another simply adding to the structure's instability.

"I can't do this," he finally concluded, and the admission gave him nearly euphoric sense of relief.

He was too young, too nomadic and obviously too careless - as proven by the fact that this happened in the first place. The kids would find a more suitable family to adopt them. Tifa would take care of herself and do what needed to be done without his presence muddying the waters. Everything would sort itself out for the better if he simply disappeared.

It was at that point, just when he had settled on reprising his role as the lone mercenary, that Yuffie could no longer restrain herself.

So, naturally, she slapped him.

Slapped him harder than she had ever slapped anyone across the back of the head. Hard enough that he reeled forward and almost smashed his face into the counter.

"_You_ can't do this? _**YOU**_?" she screeched, leaping to her feet so swiftly that her stool fell over. "What do you have to do but sit around and wring your dainty, ghost-white hands?"

She was on the brink of hysterically raging she noticed, but didn't care. If ever there was a time and a place and a person who needed to be raged at, it was Cloud Strife right here and now.

How dare he. How dare he even _think_ about giving up.

"What about her, huh? Do you have any idea what she must be feeling? Here's a hint: take your petty moaning and multiply it by about a thousand. That'll be close. So get off your cowardly _ass_," a firm shove had him off the stool and stumbling towards the staircase "and go talk to her. NOW."

Fists clenched, at the ready to at least knock out a few teeth should he try to run, Yuffie watched as Cloud hesitated on the landing. He stood there for several seconds, hardly moving a muscle, watching his life up till now pass before his eyes and debating where it was meaning to lead him next. Though the road remained treacherous as far as the eye could see, though there were more dead ends and storms and traps than he could count along the way, only one thing had remained constant so far.

...and she was waiting for him.

Soon enough, the ninja saw him move up the stairs and her body automatically relaxed. Though it was probably a little callous the act so aggressively towards a man on the brink of ruin, she thanked every god imaginable that he was smart enough not to need to be told twice.

* * *

He strode to their bedroom with urgency, hoping that he could use a "ripping-off-the-band-aid" type of approach to this inevitably dreadful conversation. As long as he kept focused on one task at a time, one foot in front of the other, the panic attack threatening to drown him could be held at bay. For though his strength was being tapered due to the mako treatments, his emotions on the other hand had recently been known to run rampant.

It was quite exhausting, being normal.

"Tifa," he knocked on the door. No answer. The panic swelled a little higher. Emboldened by pure desperation, Cloud opened the door and stepped inside, only to find it vacant.

"Tifa?"

He checked the bathroom where she spent a lot of her time being sick these past few weeks, from what they assumed was remnants of her own treatments.

Empty.

He checked the office, thinking she may have wanted to distract herself with work.

Nothing.

She was known to straighten Marlene and Denzel's room between bar shifts, but she wasn't in there either.

He found himself in the middle of the hallway of an apparently deserted floor, feeling like his heart was trying to escape from his chest and mourning the failure of the band-aid solution in addition to everything else. It certainly didn't help to imagine her wandering the streets in her delicate physical and mental condition.

He was about to give up, to begin combing the city with Fenrir, when a strange creak cause him to pause. Strange because not only had he not moved, but it seemed to be coming from above. Cloud's eyes shifted upward and felt his spirits lift when the attic trap door came into view. In a few creative vaulting movements, he managed to kick in the cover and pull himself up into the space. All too soon, he was facing her.

"Tifa..."

She sat in the corner cross-legged, silhouetted in a halo of light from the single rounded window and surrounded by opened boxes. How she got up there without a ladder, he didn't want to know. There were too many months to go to start getting paranoid now.

"Tifa," he began again, daring to take a single step closer. Sadly, he had no idea what to say any further than her name. 'I'm sorry' was simply too weak for the situation he had put them in and 'It'll be okay' was just a blatant lie.

Luckily, she robbed him of the necessity.

"Cloud, look at this," she insisted, offering up something pale and flimsy in her hands. Cautiously, he approached, hands in his pockets, and waited for his eyes to adjust.

"...Something Nanaki coughed up?" he guessed once he was near enough to the ratty, moth-eaten scrap.

Tifa laughed, albeit softly. "No. Here. Take it."

Despite to urge to put on gloves first, Cloud accepted item and made to sit down across from her. It was a dress, he gathered eventually. In the light it was revealed to be vaguely pink, at least it had been once upon a time, with the remnants of a white, lace collar.

"It was Marlene's" Tifa explained, shuffling a bit closer. "It was what Barret found her in when he rescued her from Corel."

"That explains the soot." Parts of his fingers had become black where he touched the thing. "If you want to keep it for her, you should consider having it cleaned and vacuum sealed."

"Oh, its complete garbage now, I know. I just..." She learned over to snatch the garment back and then delicately spread it out over her lap. "Can you even imagine her ever being this tiny?"

_'No,' _Cloud answered himself honestly. He couldn't, and he had never cared to. He loved Marlene and Denzel for who they were in the present and who they may someday become. They had always been mature for their ages, and their households had joined years after someone else already taught them to be generally self-sufficient. Whatever had once fit into that dress was an entirely different sort of creature. One of the most terrifying he would ever encounter.

"She was only around ten months then," Tifa continued, completely ignorant of his catatonic state. "I didn't meet her until she was two and by then Barret had done all the hard work. She was so sweet. Not one tantrum that I ever witnessed, though he swore they happened sometimes. However, once she did put a couple of snails in my pillow case after I wouldn't let her stay up past nine."

She laughed again, but it didn't hold long. Soon she was merely wheezing, and not long after, she was quietly sobbing.

She had officially cried more times in the last few months of their relationship, than she had in her entire life before. This realization broke Cloud's heart.

Without worrying whether she was comfortable, without caring about the delicate relic on her lap or the high probability that she had a weapon with which to take her revenge, he drew her into an embrace. And she let him. Thank goodness she let him.

For as scared as he still was, it was so much easier knowing you weren't the only one.

"I-I don't think I can do this," she mumbled into his neck, unknowingly repeating the exact same words he had said to Yuffie a few minutes previously. "I...I can't do this."

"Tifa," he whispered, running his hands through her hair and down her back. Anything to give her some sense of comfort, though he had always been considered a poor provider of such things. "If there's one thing I'm sure of in this world, is that if you set your mind to it, you can do anything. Anything you want."

This was said not so much for mutual reassurance, but as a plain, inarguable fact. Many things once deemed impossible had been achieved by Tifa in her lifetime, the most notorious of which was him ending up here, in a home he helped build with an ever expanding family, in the arms of a woman that he could now freely admit he loved.

It may have taken time and effort and many days of screaming and tearing out hair as well as an equivalent number of days in utter wretchedness. But, in the end, it had been worth it.

It would always be worth it.

"This wasn't supposed to happen..."

Cloud chuckled. "I am very well aware of that. One in a million chance they told me."

"A statistical miracle, they told me."

"Then...who are we to deny a miracle?"

Tifa stiffened in his arms. Then slowly, experimentally, pulled back, only far enough so that she could see his eyes. To confirm if he was serious.

"Do you think..._we_ can do this?"

He could only shrug with failed nonchalance, hoping she didn't notice that he was holding his breath. "I'm up for it if you are. As long as it's deemed not too dangerous for you. It...it could be fun."

Her eyes widened. "Fun? Really?"

"Well," he gestured with his chin toward the scattered pieces of Marlene's old clothing, "at least you'd have an excuse to replace some of these bio-hazardous materials."

"Uh-huh...and if it's a boy?"

Cloud felt a small influx of exhilaration enter his veins at the prospect, thrilled at finally having an answer. "Boys are simpler, trust me. They can survive off of two interchangeable outfits until they fall to pieces. Just ask Denzel."

She was about to give him a harsh lesson on the truths of infant-care, but decided to let him stay naive for a while longer. In fact, not analyzing things may just be the only way they could get through this in one, sane piece.

And so, with a deep breath, she expelled all her concerns with money, the adoption, the new bar, the physical challenges ahead, everything. Tonight, all that mattered was that she and Cloud were - for all intents and purposes - going to have a baby, and she suddenly couldn't wait to tell everyone about it.

"Call the gang please," she instructed, pushing herself to her feet and slapping the dust off her palms. Back as the resilient, optimistic barmaid they were all accustomed to. "We'll have a celebration tonight, for Marlene and Denzel's first day of school of course."

"I don't think we'll need to call..." he responded with furrowed brows. It took her a moment, but then Tifa heard it too. Running steps, still far away but not more than half a block. And then voices, their children's voices, practically shrieking all the way down to street.

"CLOUD! TIFA!" It was Yuffie from right below them, accompanied by what seemed to be three different phone lines ringing simultaneously. "WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU?"

"In the attic!" she called back while heading to the open trapdoor's edge.

"Wait!" Cloud interrupted her mid leap, pulling her back a few steps. "You can't be doing stunts like this anymore. Let me get a ladder."

"A ladder? Psht. I'm pregnant, not eighty."

"GUYS GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"

"We need a ladder!" he yelled back.

"A LADDER? WHAT ARE YOU, EIGHTY?"

"CLOUD? TIFA?" They heard Barret call from downstairs.

"THEY'RE UP IN THE ATTIC!" Yuffie responded. "APPARENTLY, THEY NEED A LADDER."

"A LADDER? WHAT, ARE THEIR LEGS *$#%&(#$ BROKEN?"

"For goodness sake..." Frustrated, Tifa pulled Cloud toward the hole and pointed. "You go first and then you can lift me down. Okay? Compromise."

"Fine." Cloud had just put one foot forward when it was suddenly halted by the appearance of their largest crew member, his shoulders filling up the entire opening.

"GUYS! It's in! You won! You %($#*#& won! Ha ha!"

"Won?" Tifa and Cloud exchanged confused glances. "Won what?"

"Won what? WON WHAT? BAM!" The exuberant man's metal hand slammed onto the attic floor so hard that the entire house shook. And when it retreated, a thick stack of papers remained, all stamped with the WRO seal and headed by the bold word _**Congratulations.**_

It didn't take long for his meaning to be deciphered.

"We won the appeal." Tifa stated in awe, not daring to touch the document lest it be a mirage. "Cloud, we-we won the appeal!"

"Damn straight," confirmed Barett with a haughty grin. "I got Reeve on his way to notarize. After you all sign these documents, Marlene and Denzel are here to stay FOR-&$#%(#-EVER! Booyah!"

As soon as he heaved himself up into the attic, he was followed by what seemed like a never ending stream of eager well-wishers. First their children, no longer orphans in the eyes of the law, barreling into them both with desperate hugs and tear-choked thank-yous. Then Yuffie with a punch to the shoulder and knowing smirk. Cid, Shera, Red, Vincent, neighbors, clients, even the uninvited Turks showed up - though it was most likely a coincidence since they were frequent patrons of the liquor store.

7th Heaven was the busiest it had ever been that night, filled to the point of bursting yet still running efficiently thanks to Yuffie and her small team of hired help. For the first time in her life, Tifa felt comfortable merely resting in a corner booth along with her close friends and was blissfully ignorant of the chaos surrounding them.

After all the dread of the past weeks in limbo, she had swiftly adopted an almost eerie sense of calm. Simply knowing what they were up against and confirming that they would face it together, no matter what - well - it was just the prescription she needed.

Upon being overwhelmed by the first wave of guests, Cloud and Tifa had wordlessly decided not to tell anyone about their situation. At least until they visited the mako center and had some more solid information on the subject. Though this court-victory had eradicated a huge chunk of their worries, they knew there were still going to be many more bumps along the road and it was best to deal with them only as they appeared on the horizon.

It was the only way they could survive the journey.

Later into that celebratory evening, as he watched her throw back her head and laugh from across the table, Cloud reflected on how he had changed or, more appropriately, grew over the past year of his life. It was strange to remember that only a few hours previously he had been seriously debating going off on his own again, as if it would have been so much easier for everyone. As if he could ever live with himself if he went through with it. As if he could ever find some semblance of happiness anywhere else. And now, seemingly out of the blue, he was a father of three. The numbers were slightly overwhelming, and the mako-suppressing medication he was on certainly didn't help with the room's lack of oxygen.

"Whoa, Spikey...everything okay?" Barett asked with genuine worry as he noted his friend's breathing becoming slightly more laborious than usual. Tifa met his eyes then, the remnants of a giggle still on her lips as she fiddled with the stem of her untouched glass of wine. He noted with pride the promise ring he had given her still glittering on her finger - awaiting the addition of yet another birthstone.

The answer came to him easily then, and with conviction.

"It will be."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I had a record low number of reviews last chapter from any of my stories ever :(, which I figure was caused primarily by the ridiculously long pause between updates. Thus, as a thank you to those new readers I've collected, a fast one for you all in an attempt to re-spur this story for its final few chapters! And hopefully prove that I'm still serious about it.

I struggled with the cheesy pregnancy tangent since it's such a stereotypical way to end a fanfiction, but it had to be done since I kind of alluded to it since the beginning and it was in my original outline. Despite the speed of writing this, I hope it was portrayed alright and the characters aren't too OOC. Please let me know what you think as I do take it to heart in future writing.

Again, thank you all for your support.


	15. Patience

"_All good things come to those who wait."_

**- Proverb**

-. **Wait For It **.-

Chapter XV:_ Patience_

The world is composed of opposites.

Positive and negative.

Love and hate.

Light and dark.

Candy and vegetables.

You get the idea.

What people sometimes fail to acknowledge is that good things cannot exist without their counterparts. It's one of those vital yet uncomfortable truths. Without the distinction of opposites, without the ability of living beings to recognize darkness and choose to embrace or to fight it, life would simply lose its meaning.

One cannot fully appreciate the glory of free-running down a hill before first experiencing the trials of a climb.

Wars lead to greater peace

Stalemates reveal loopholes.

And accidents become miracles.

Tifa Lockheart recognized and appreciated these facts better than most people ever would. That was why she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she listened to the parade of feet sprinting up the long, stone pathway to the kitchen. Despite the fact that these feet in particular were twenty minutes past due.

"I know, I know! I'm sorry!" exclaimed the thirteen-year-old girl as she burst through the door and kicked her mud-splattered sneakers off into the closet. After tying her long, brown hair back into a messy ponytail, she scurried over to the sink and began aggressively washing her hands. "You will not believe the drama in school today! I completely lost track of time. I had _told_ Rory that I was partnered with Grant for the science fair, totally Mrs. Fink's decision by the way, and then she _accused_ me of trying to steal him away! Which is crazy because not only am I not into Grant at all, but how can I _steal _a guy from her that she's never even spoken a full sentence too? Urgg!"

Without missing a beat, Marlene wiped her hands dry on the embroidered towel Tifa held and then spun to bury them in the mound of pasta dough waiting for her on the island countertop. "Anyway, we're okay now. But because I was a little late to pick up Cia, she had started a game of 'dinner party', so then we couldn't leave until I sat and pretended to eat some of their play-dough mashed potatoes - which were _blue_ by the way. What's up with that? So then I had to-"

"Did you make sure she got her proper dosage?" Tifa could not help but interrupt as she scrubbed her own hands clean. "They told us it's important she take it at the same time, every day."

"Well _duh_!" Marlene exclaimed with an exaggerated eye roll, as if the question were the most offensive thing she had ever heard. "Of all things, I'm not gonna let Rory's paranoia be the reason this fails."

She sucked in her breath then, realizing only a mili-second too late how pessimistic the interpretation of her words could be.

"Not that it's…gonna fail this time," she mumbled, mostly to her dough covered fingers. A mere second of contemplation was all she surrendered to the thought before it was blinked out of existence "Anyway, as I said: DRAMMMAAAA. I cannot _wait_ until we get to senior school. Maybe then everybody will _finally_ grow up! Yeesh."

She flashed her adoptive mother a wry grin which Tifa couldn't help but mirror. Despite the typically teenager-ish language, Marlene was still - and probably always would be - extraordinarily wise beyond her years. It was a quality that, though appreciated by family members, had led to many social difficulties. It was becoming harder and harder not to laugh and to promise discipline when those phone calls from the principal came through stating that her daughter had, for example, "taken actions which led to the injury of a classmate!" (in 2nd grade, she had convinced a playground bully that he was tough enough to run through walls) or "vandalized school property!" (in 5th grade, she had turned every second trash into a recycling bin via spray paint) or "disrespected a teacher!" (in 7th grade, she organized a boycott because the curriculum acknowledged only one of the planet's six official religions).

The girl's spirit was indeed infallible, which (despite the clashes with authority) had proven to be a very precious asset on more than one occasion. In fact, and this Tifa couldn't help but remember with slight shame, it was that very spirit that had once kept her from completely falling apart…back when their days had been the darkest. Back when she had, temporarily, lost all hope…

As if on cue, a high-pitched giggle erupted from beyond the door Marlene had entered, and the two women froze to listen with their usual reverence. It was a sound they hadn't heard nearly often enough; a fact that broke Tifa's heart on a daily basis.

Automatically, her gaze wandered to the window where she watched a little girl, still frightfully small for her five years, gleefully chasing Lucky the dog. Lucky was yet another recent addition to their constantly growing family. Denzel had adopted the once ratty, half-starved thing a few months ago from an alley behind the senior school. Now he shone with a healthy, shiny coat of black fur and a big, full belly that jiggled as he ran. One could hardly recognize him after so short a time in their care.

Though she has originally been hesitant to take him in due only to her lack of time, Tifa had hoped, had prayed, that perhaps he could serve the family as some sort of muse. That everyone witnessing, first hand, a being once so incredibly frail now completely rehabilitated…it could remind them that nothing was as dire as it seemed.

It didn't take her long to deduce that Denzel not only realized this, but he needed it. They all needed it. His name choice was most definitely not random.

"She's getting better." In her daze, Tifa hadn't noticed that Marlene had joined her by the window. They shot each other another smile and returned to studying Cia. "Putting her back in school was a good idea. She's happier. And the new treatment…she looks…"

"I know," Tifa whispered, before taking a deep, shaky breath for courage. It has only been a few weeks and already the little girl's dark brown hair suddenly became thicker and shinier, in stark contrast to the lifeless strands she donned in the many family photos that dotted the house's walls. Her skin too, it actually flushed pink as she ran, far longer than she ever had been able to in the past. The most notable change though has been her eyes…those beautiful, bright, blue-green eyes…they had finally begun to lose that haunting glow that made everyone around her tense.

It was still early in the treatment though. There could be consequences that they had yet to discover. But for today she decided not to dwell on it. Today they were all not only alive but extremely comfortable and happy in their new country cottage and it's adjoining, roadside restaurant.

Life wasn't perfect and it never would be, but as she watched Lucky and Cia rolling around the lush green grass of their backyard, both smiling so widely it had probably long since begun to strain, Tifa knew that everything, somehow, would be alright.

The chime of the restaurant doorbell yanked both of them out of their thoughts and into the present, Tifa cursing lightly under her breath.

"I thought you were closing early?" Marlene asked, bewildered.

"I am. Well, I was about to," she sighed while wiping her hands dry on the towel.

"Want me to-"

"No. No. It'll be fine. The others won't be showing up for another hour anyway. Please just finish what you can here and I'll be back soon."

"No problem! I'm gonna make this pasta my b-!" Tifa choose to ignore the last word, smirking as she noted that Barret's influence would never completely leave the girl.

After snatching her apron off its hook, she began the short trek between the family's modest kitchen and the restaurant's larger, more industrial version. On a typical weekend, they were at their full capacity of thirty patrons with a lineup out the door. It was just the right amount for Tifa and a small staff of servers to cater to with great care and a constantly fluctuating, seasonal menu. It had been a rough first year or so until word of mouth spread and the new roads became safe enough to ensure a relatively constant flow of traffic, but the household could now confidently state that they had been wanting for nothing for quite some time now. And it certainly didn't hurt that Cloud had joined Reeve's new venture of Gaia Industries as a full partner just after Cia's birth.

If only out of habit, they still only purchased the cheaper, local produce, all still wore clothing until it was either too small or threadbare and they preferred to upgrade appliances and machinery rather than purchase new. Too great a percentage of their lives had been spent stretching a gil as far as it could go, that they saw no reason to stop. And it was beginning to look like they had good reason, as Denzel was about to enter advanced math, biology, chemistry and physics classes as well as an internship at the research facility where she and Cia were being treated. Though Tifa was happy to support him in whatever endeavor he choose to pursue, it thrilled her to know that should he wish to study medicine or engineering, they would be able to fully support him. Not that long ago, having a friend or family member attending one of the planet's rare Universities had been a laughable concept.

Needless to say, things had changed.

"Hi there!" Tifa greeted the well-groomed couple standing restlessly by the doorway. "Welcome to 8th Heaven. You can sit anywhere you like."

The woman, a tall and impressively bejeweled blonde, only smiled awkwardly, obviously having noted the completely empty space. "Are we…too early for dinner?"

"Oh, well, no. It's just I was planning on closing early for a family event and warned all the regulars and took no reservations. But I forgot to put the sign up for drop ins. Silly me! But it's no problem. You've come all this way and we're still fully stocked. I'd be happy to make-"

"Mommy! Mommy!" A petite, mud covered figured suddenly barreled into her knees, decorating her white apron with brown streaks as she tugged at it. "Look what Lucky found. A fwrog! A big one! Can we keep it pleaasseeeeeee!"

After dutifully inspecting the remarkably large amphibian being presented to her, Tifa dared to glance back at her clients. The woman was pulling her fur shawl further up on her shoulders as if for protection and the man's mouth was set into a sneer of disgust. As often occurred before actually tasting the food, these privileged tourists sometimes found 8th Heaven to be a little below their standards despite the rave reviews. In the past, this may have upset Tifa. She may have insisted they stay and exhausted herself putting extra effort to ensure they have the most fabulous meal they'd ever eaten so that they'd feel shame for days regarding their initial reaction.

Present day Tifa, however, had other priorities.

"He's beautiful sweetie," she assured, giving the frog a pat on its slimy head. "But I think he'd prefer to be with his family in the stream. Don't you think?"

Cia took a moment to think about it, her slightly sun burnt face scrunched up in concentration, before coming to a conclusion. "His brother and sister may get wherried," she explained with a self-assured nod. "I'll take him home."

Without further ado, she span around and sprinted back into the yard, with the hem of her blue cotton dress barely avoiding getting caught in the door.

In addition to questioning the health codes of the establishment, Cia's presence also seemed to have charmed the customers, as it always did. Their faces had softened into easy smiles and their shoulders had become slightly less tense.

"Your daughter?" the woman asked, eyes still locked on the door she had disappeared through.

Tifa nodded. "My miracle, yes."

"She's beautiful. Those eyes. So unique."

"They're her father's eyes."

"How lucky to have inherited such an _attractive_ abnormality," added the husband.

Again, Tifa smiled, but this time unavoidably strained. "Thank you."

"Her name?"

"Paciencia. It means patience, in the language of the Ancients."

The couple shared a brief, skeptical glance. "That's…original. You and your husband must be so proud."

"My partner and I consider ourselves very blessed, indeed."

Another disapproving look was shared, but Tifa was as indifferent as always. She and Cloud had never, officially, gotten married and had long since decided that they probably never would. Outsiders beyond their circle of friends would be forever confused by the choice, especially upon seeing them together with the three children and still so (apparently obviously) enamored with one another. But after all the tense run-around of officially adopting Marlene and Denzel, additional government paper work was the last thing they felt they needed to bring the family closer to an expected social standard.

They were who they were: a hodgepodge of people thrown together by fate, who happened to love and respect one another. Marlene had decided to keep her 2nd last name, Wallace, after the adoption had been processed and Denzel had chosen to add Lockheart-Strife to his. Each of the family members had their completely separate history and they chose to acknowledge that out of respect for those they had left behind. All any of them cared about, was the intention - the promise - of a future together.

Nothing else mattered. Especially, she suddenly realized, her odd obsession with impressing strangers.

As if to support this verdict, the low rumble of a motorcycle engine began to fill her ears. Still about a minute away, she guessed thanks to her enhanced hearing, but close enough.

"I…I'm sorry," Tifa muttered, eyes on the door as she began untying her mud splattered apron. "We actually are closed for the night. Please feel free to call for a reservation tomorrow."

"But…but you just said-"

"Sorry." And with nothing more, she swept past the glamorous couple out onto the restaurant's carved wooden balcony, taking a moment to smooth her hair flat and straighten the hem of her long, loose shirt.

Down the road she watched him approach, gradually taking shape from a blur of blue and black into the defined silhouette she knew so very well. The sight never failed to get her heart racing with anticipation, though today was somehow worse. Today, she sprinted down the stairs and across the expansive lawn in order to greet him. Standing still any longer was suddenly impossible, though she knew he'd chastise her for it. Women in her condition shouldn't move so fast, he'd say. She laughed at how well she had come to know him over the years.

They slowed down simultaneously a few meters from the garage door and she arrived by his side just as he swung his leg over Fenrir to disembark.

"You're late!" she noted breathlessly, though the wide smile on her lips told him she was far from upset by the fact.

After removing his helmet, it was revealed that he too was smirking defiantly. "And _you_ shouldn't be moving so fast."

She laughed again. How gloriously predictable!

"Did you get it?"

He nodded before flicking the switch that opened one of the bike's hidden compartments and revealing a large, baby-blue pastry box.

At the sight of it, Tifa's brow furrowed in confusion. She had been expecting a signature orange box with gold ribbon. "I thought you were going to go to Casey's? It's on right on your way home, isn't it?"

"I know…I just…" he scratched at the back of his neck, embarrassed. "It's an important day, so I went up to the North Sector. Reeve told me about this new, artisanal place. It's why I'm late. But look…"

Eagerly striding forward, he flipped open the box's lid to reveal its contents. Leaning over to take in the view, Tifa feasted her eyes upon the most elaborate cake she had ever seen. Three tiered and massive, the visible top layer was covered in green frosting molded into individual blades of grass which surrounded a perfectly scaled marzipan model of a motorcycle; an exact replica of the one currently hidden in the garage that Cloud had been building for months. The words "Happy 16th Birthday Denzel!" stood out proudly as 3-dimensional, decorated, chocolate lettering. It was quite literally the most awe-inspiring, edible thing she had ever seen.

"So…" Cloud prompted, made nervous by her silence. "What do you think? Worth waiting for?"

At this, Tifa's eyes instantly flicked up to meet his. She saw there are the usual suspects of his eternally shaky confidence; hesitation, fretfulness, worry that he's upset her, regret that he didn't simply follow her suggested instructions. She wanted to say something, wanted to assure him that his decision was not only appreciated, but perfect. She wanted to let him know, yet again, how much she loved him and how great a partner and father he was, of how happy he made them all. But the words wouldn't come out. A sudden, overwhelming swell of emotion had rendered her mute.

"Teef?" he asked, placing a leather-gloved hand onto her cheek. "Are you okay? Are you sick? Is the baby…"

"I…We're…" she forced herself to formulate words knowing he was close to having one of his internal panic attacks. Cia had just started to get better but Cloud had spent the vast majority of her life till now, including the pregnancy, in a constant state of anxiety. They had known since the first ultrasound that she would be different and there had been no similar cases of mako-infused men being able to produce children, so they were going in completely blind. Every time Cia cried, he had sprinted to her room, fearing the worst. If she refused to eat her vegetables or tripped and scrapped her knee, he had been convinced it was a terrible side effect. He had been torturing himself for six and half years and now, by another unexpected twist of fate, it was going to happen all over again.

When she had found out the previous month, she had actually burst into tears, unsure if she could go through with it all once more. Scared out of her mind that this new child may end up even sicker; of Denzel, Marlene and Cloud having to continue to put their lives, their passions, on hold in exchange for doctor's appointments, administration of medicines, living in perpetual fear of watching someone they loved slowly wither away and being powerless to stop it.

But he had held her that night. As soon as the confession escaped her lips, he had swept her into his arms, nearly crushing her to his chest. And then he had laughed and he had kissed her and he stated again and again how happy he was, how amazing the opportunity was to expand their family even further, how excited Cia would be to get the chance to be an older sister, how much easier it would be this time around now that they were financially stable and Gaia Industries had made such progress with their mako research and Denzel and Marlene now being teenagers and able to take care of themselves. "A cakewalk," he had deemed it while brushing the errant tears away from her cheeks. "You'll see. Easy."

It was just what she needed to hear, though both knew most of it was but a beautiful lie. The plain fact remained that Cia's birth had almost killed her and Cloud would never be able to forget that. However, he also knew very well than nothing on this planet would be able to coax her out of it anyway. Her persistence, her refusal to give up, was one of the many reasons he fell in love with her. And Cia…despite the terrifying beginning, he could not imagine a life worth living without their daughter. He had never been loved by anyone as intensely as that little girl and the feeling was completely mutual. So much so, that when the question came up "would you do it all again?" the answer was a clear and resounding: "Yes. Gladly. A million times, gladly."

Positive and negative.

Light and dark.

Good and bad.

Tifa and Cloud had been to hell and back, so they were two of the few people on this planet able to recognize heaven when they came upon it.

It was a little messier than expected, and included a lot more blood, sweat and tears than advertised. Still, all in all…there was nowhere else either of them would rather be.

"We're fine," Tifa was finally able to get out through a tight throat, covering his hand with her own. "It's a cakewalk, remember? Easy."

Cloud sighed with fake exasperation. "I remember. I'm glad you do too."

"DADDY!" Cia came bounding through to front door with the enthusiasm of a wildcat chasing its prey. Actually, to escalate the comparison, she was also as saturated with mud and grime as such an animal chasing its prey…through a swamp. Despite this, Cloud didn't hesitate to lift her into his arms and plant a kiss into her hair.

It was the same thing every day. The girl could never sit still once hearing the sound of his engine pulling in. No matter what she was doing or who was insisting she stay put and wait, she always managed to escape and run out to greet him. Funny that, contrary to her name, _im_patience ended up being the quality she and her mother most closely shared.

"You're late!" accused the little girl with an exaggerated, deep frown. Denzel had recently taught her how to read a clock and the whole family was now apparently on a strict schedule. For Cloud especially, she counted down the minutes until his expected arrival which was traditionally right on the dot.

"Sorry. Today I had to buy a special cake for Denzel," Cloud explained matter-of-factly, to which Cia's strange eyes lit up. That is, figuratively lit up.

"Really? Do I get some! Is there ice cream! Can I-"

"Shhh!" Marlene had come out of the kitchen with frantically waving, flour-covered hands, Lucky nipping playfully at her heels. "Denzel just called!" she yelled toward the group. "He's going to be here any minute!"

"Oh!" Tifa smacked a hand to her forehead, unable to fathom how fast the time went. "I still haven't finished the sauce for dinner! Hurry, let's get the cake-"

"He's here! He's here! Denzel's home!"

Too late.

Cia scrambled out of Cloud's arms and took off down the pavement just the school bus pulled up to the edge of the field. There, a lanky teenage boy with his uniform fashionably disheveled exited with his arms up, mock defending against the torrent of exploding confetti and silly string that rained down on him from friends.

Only after they had run out of ammo did he dare to reveal his face and give a bow of surrender/appreciation, which was answered with hooting, waving and (this Tifa couldn't help but notice) a few blown kisses as the bus pulled away. Just when he thought the coast was clear, he was assaulted again; this time by a little body latching onto his knees and jumping up-and-down like a…well, like a little girl with normal amounts of energy should, her far-away voice distinctly yelling something about "cake".

"Well," Marlene sighed with her typical dramatic flair as she watched her siblings race one another back up the driveway, Lucky cantering off to join them. "Nothing's ready. The surprise is ruined. May as well get my present ready. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREMLIN!" She yelled toward her brother, earning a small slap of joking disapproval on her arm before she returned to the house. They all knew it was nothing but a crass though loving (most of the time) nickname they shared with each other, usually reserved for when out of the elders' earshot.

Up the drive way, Denzel and Cia were followed by three cars turning in, each jam packed with family members and friends arriving to celebrate. Most notably was the frantically waving Yuffie's in her new lime green convertible, decorated with animated flames and an embarrassed-looking Cid riding shotgun. Tired of the instability with trickster professions, the ninja had eagerly bought out the original 7th Heaven for much more than it was worth back when they were experiencing the worst of their financial woes and she had since turned it in to the most popular night spot in Midgar.

It was amazing how much had changed over the years, as well as how much had managed to stay exactly the same.

Once parked, a flood of well wishers engulfed the children, Cia heard happily shrieking as she was tossed in the air by her uncle Barret and Denzel getting slightly more adult pats on the back and handshakes befitting his entrance into manhood (except from Yuffie of course).

Watching the scene on their lawn with a warmed heart, Tifa suddenly felt Cloud's eyes on her and turned to meet them.

He nodded. Only once.

She nodded back.

Between them, their hands found one another's and squeezed.

Definitely worth waiting for.

-. **THE END** .-

* * *

**Author's Note:** After 10 long years, I finally have a completed story on . (Deep breath) This is awesome.

Thank you everyone for sticking with me to the end of this. It was a fun story to write and though I've sadly slowed down a lot due to life, I hope to forever keep writing in some form...as long as there's people who enjoy reading my stuff :).

In case you're curious about my future plans: though it hasn't been touched since 2003 (gah!), I'm planning to re-edit and finalize my most popular FF10 fic "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" so that I can focus on my long-term FF8 one "Possession". I do hope that I get inspired with Tifa and Cloud a bit soon, as they are definitely a pleasure to work with creatively. I now have this "closing existing stories" bug and I cannot stop!

I hope the ending was satisfactory for everyone with a combo typical fluff and realism that I love so much.

To note, I am getting married at the end of this month (June 30th) so it was funny to write that line about government documents not being important lol. It should be good times and I'm very amused by all my FF subtle insertions, like the table names are all towns like "Eden", "Macalania" and "Midgar" hahaha. Such geeks we are. I definitely attribute whatever romance exists in the story to my future husband Mathieu and all he is to me.

Again, thank you for sticking around. I hope it was fun.

- Mayonaka (Nancy)


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